


Fallout

by DracoWinchester7237



Series: Echoes [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWinchester7237/pseuds/DracoWinchester7237
Summary: Newt knew the room was empty before he opened his eyes. It was a harsh feeling to wake up to like the empty space was crushing him, but he supposed he'd been used to much worse. Even with the feeling in his gut, the feeling that screamed wrong wrong wrong, He didn't quite realize what was so wrong.





	1. Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Yayyyy part three chapter one!!!!!!! let me know what you think as always and I hope you like it! I've been working really hard on the remainder of part three so the next few chapters should come more quickly than in part two. so ya I hope you like it!

Newt knew the room was empty before he opened his eyes. It was a harsh feeling to wake up to like the empty space was crushing him, but he supposed he'd been used to much worse. Even with the feeling in his gut, the feeling that screamed wrong wrong wrong, He didn't quite realize  _ what _ was so wrong. 

 

Not until he sat up. 

 

He blinked lazily and looked around, and that’s when he saw it. Or rather, didn’t see it. 

 

What was wrong was the rumpled sheets, the IV tubes that hung off the side of the bed, dripping clear liquid onto a puddle on the floor. It was the pool of fabric left on the other side of the room, an abandoned hospital gown. It was all very very wrong. 

 

“Thomas?” he asked the empty room, knowing good and well that there would be no response. No response because Thomas was gone. Thomas was always gone. And Newt began to curse himself for falling asleep when he knew,  _ he knew _ that Thomas would do something careless and stupid the moment he did. 

 

For months Newt woke up with the same feeling like he was back in the abandoned hospital room. In the moments just before reality came back to him he always imagined Thomas laying next to him. And every morning Newt realized Thomas was gone all over again. 

 

Newt remembered the sinking feeling when the Sheriff, Thomas's dad, came stumbling into the room, a piece of paper crumpled in his hand and his face painted with pure terror. 

 

He remembered how it felt like a punch to the gut when he saw Melissa, the nice nurse that took such good care of him, actually crying over the empty bed. 

 

He remembered Scott demanding to know where Thomas was. Remembered how he shouted at Newt, begging him to tell him something of Thomas’s vanishing act but hat could Newt say? 

 

He remembered thinking how lucky Tommy was to have so many people care about him so deeply. It shocked him to realize that he was actually mildly jealous of him. That only made him feel worse about the whole situation because Tommy was gone. Tommy was gone and he was taken out of this room while Newt slept with his head on the bloody bed surely he would have felt if Thomas had been moved if Thomas had fought. But something about that felt just as wrong as the empty room did. 

 

Taken, Newt realized, he wasn't taken, not if he had time to put on his clothes, not if he had time to leave his father a note., A pang of jealousy hit Newt again and he pushed it away forcefully. 

 

It took him a week to come to terms with the idea that Thomas had left on his own, which was proven when the Sheriff came home with the security tapes from the hospital the night Thomas disappeared. 

 

Newt shivered at the memories. He peered at the board in front of him, pictures and paper and scribbled notes in markers were connected to each other through red string and tape. Red for unsolved. It was all red. Newt scanned the pictured on the board until his head ached, and then he continued to scan them; a still shot was taken from the security video of Thomas talking to who could only be Teresa, but as they never got a clear look at her face Newt couldn't be 100% sure. Well, the sheriff couldn't be 100% Sure, Newt knew it was Teresa in his bones. Really she was the only one it could be. Another still of the van that drove off with Thomas's unconscious body. Next to that was all the information they could find on that van based on its license plate number, which was written above the paper. A red string connected that to a page taped on the other side of the board which was about the owner of the van, the owner who was dead, so that didn't help. Newt only felt mildly bad for thinking that. Thomas's missing person poster was taped in the top corner, only the name on it was Stiles Stilinski. Which was Thomas's real name, or the name he had before WICKED erased it. Newt let out an exasperated sigh. 

 

There was something else that bothered him though. Newt opened the marker in his hand and wrote beside Thomas’s missing poster in big letters; WHERE IS MINHO. 

 

“You okay?”  Newt capped the marker and looked over at Scott who joined him in front of the board, their relationship was forged in necessity but in all honesty, Newt liked Scott. He was easy going and never seemed to let the stress of the situation overwhelm him. He was probably the most optimistic person Newt had ever known. 

 

After Scott had accused Newt of working with WICKED or being under there control still and pretty much any other variation of Newt having to do with Thomas disappearing, he had come back later to apologize. Newt just brushed it off, if the roles were reversed he wouldn't have handled the situation much differently. And after that, they pretty much got on pretty well, spent almost all of their time looking for Thomas, but Scott was pretty smart, in his own way. Although, at the time he didn't understand why so many of his friends hung on every word he said. 

 

Newt could help but grin at the memory, that was before he found out about the werewolves. 

 

“Just wish Tommy or Minho were here, none of this is even helpful.” Newt motioned at the board. He wasn't dumb, not by a long shot, but this was too big and too important and Newt couldn't wrap his head around all the pieces. He'd always been better in the garden anyways. 

 

“I know what you mean, we're all lost without Stiles, or Thomas I guess. He was kind of our unsung hero, like the wizard behind the curtain and all that.” Newt just looked at him, Scott chuckled and continued, “What I mean is that I might have been the Alpha of the Pack, but Stiles was our leader. At least before he was taken the first time. Since then, well, we might seem okay and all but we only really come together to keep all the bad things out of beacon hills and then fall apart and wait for the next disaster.” 

 

“Yeah, Tommy was our leader pretty quickly in the maze, he was only there two days before he started breaking all our rules and making his own, but he did more in his short time in the glade than the rest of us did in a year.” Scott was nodding along with Newt’s words. 

 

“Stiles is good at breaking the rules,” Newt and Scott both looked up to see the Sheriff leaning against the door. Newt noticed how dark the circles under his eyes were and the way his shoulders sagged. “I brought another piece of the puzzle,” He said, with a small smile, holding up a box that was clearly marked SHERIFF'S STATION DO NOT REMOVE. Newt didn't comment on it though, he had come to learn that the Sheriff pretty much did whatever he wanted. Newt and Scott moved automatically to pull files out of the box. 

 

The three of them spent the rest of the day reading page after page of police reports from the FBI from the day they were all rescued from WICKED. Each agent had filled one out, a lot of them were word for word identical, only a few of them mentioned anyone other than Thomas, Minho or Newt. 

 

Through all the chaos Newt had all but forgotten about Minho, the boy who’d been his best friend all the time they spent in the maze together. He never knew what happened to Minho, if he’d found his family like Thomas had, or if he was sucked back in. Newt scowled and picked up a new report. 

 

In the time Newt spent in WICKED after their supposed rescue he’d hardly ever been allowed outside his room. At least not as himself. So he never got to look for his friends. And then when they took over his body when they used him. Well, he only remembered the worst parts of that. 

 

Newt glanced at the Sheriff who sat at the desk flipping through more identical pages. Occasionally he'd mutter something under his breath but sometimes Newt found himself wondering if the Sheriff remembered who shot him. If he did, he never said anything.  Newts chest tightened with the thought. 

 

He looked away from the Sheriff, forcing those memories away and glancing at Scott instead, spread out on the bed. He had four or five pages spread out around him. Newt looked back to the page in his lap, and with a sigh continued to read. 

 

Occasionally someone would stand and tape something on the board that stood out or connected with something already up there, Newt left this part to the other two, if he found something odd he’d just hand it to Scott or the Sheriff to deal with. 

 

Newt quickly lost track of time, getting lost in all the different accounts of Thomas carrying him out of the building and refusing to let him go. That part made his eyes water. It was the Sheriff that broke the easy silence they shared to announce he was going to bed, and that Scott should go home soon before his mother worried, then he left the room. 

 

“We’ll find him. We did last time.” Scott said, sending a small smile in Newt’s direction. Newt didn't feel like they’d ever find him, not at this rate. Newt often got the feeling that Scott was used to having to hold everyone else up. 

 

“Yeah, I'm sure you’re right.” Scott left about an hour later and Newt was left in the middle of a sea of paperwork that told them nothing. Frustrated, Newt stood and crossed the room to the calendar hanging on the wall. He crossed out another day. Another day with no leads. Another day of dead ends. Another day without Thomas. Another day that everything in Newt screamed wrong wrong wrong. 

 

Newt made his way out of the room, flipping off the lights and heading into the living room where he made himself comfortable, as comfortable as he could be with the anxiety eating away at him. 

 

The Sheriff had insisted on Newt saying with him, if only for it to be easier for them to work out finding Thomas but Newt felt like that was about as weak as an excuse could be. He even offered him Thomas’s bed but it just didn't feel right. He settled on the couch instead. He wasn't quick to trust the situation at the start and ended up not sleeping until his body literally shut down from exhaustion. It took him almost a month to trust the Sheriff enough to go to sleep every night. Even now as he saw how much the Sheriff and even Scott cared about Thomas, how much they all really loved him, he still found it hard sometimes. 

 

Sleep wouldn't come tonight, though. He knew it wouldn't. The familiar feeling of the empty room pushing down on him was to present. He couldn't shake it and he remembered the last time he felt like this. At least in WICKED, he was out of his mind most of the time, sometimes Newt was left wondering how truly terrible his mind was. Because the last time he felt this crushing pressure on his chest he'd gotten up early and ran into the Maze. 

 

He stared at the ceiling and tried not to imagine what they were doing to Thomas. He knew full well what WICKED was truly capable of, and every bit of it lived up to their name. He had almost found himself wishing Thomas was dead if only so he wouldn't have to go through what Newt had. It sounded bad, even in his head it sounded bad, but how could he wish for Thomas to be alive when that would mean endless torment? The thoughts always left a bad taste in Newt’s mouth and tears in his eyes, but they were always there. Always at the back of his mind. 

 

Newt was buried in these thoughts when he heard what he thought almost sounded like knocking. Newt held his breath and listened. A few moments later he could hear it again. He stayed still and waited, counting slowly in his head. The rapping came again only slightly louder. It sounded like someone was knocking on the front door, but it was near 2 in the morning. 

 

He got up carefully and padded barefoot to the door. He peeked out the window next to the door and at first, he thought he must have been imagining things, there was no one there, nothing knocking on the door. He went to go back to bed, laughing at himself for making something of nothing, but then he caught sight of movement just as he let the curtains fall closed. He quickly ripped them open again and saw the back of someone walking down the road far enough away that there was no way he could have been at the door less than three minutes ago. Newt watched until he could no longer see the person through the window before he silently pulled the door open to get a better look, he took a step outside and felt something odd under his foot.

 

Newt bent to pick the envelope up and examine it. The only thing written on the outside was his name. He quickly glanced down the road again but the figure was gone. He went back inside and locked the door, turning the envelope over in his hands before carefully opening it. He peeked inside, genuinely worried that something might jump out at him. But it was only a slip of paper. 

 

_ Library  _

_ Now _

_ I can help you find Thomas. _

 

Newts heart skipped a beat as he stared at the handwriting, willing himself to recognize it, although he didn't know how he could. He didn't make a habit of memorizing anyone's handwriting, but something about it felt familiar. And they said they can find Thomas. Newt turned the note over in shaking hands, looking for more information and getting disappointed when he found none. 

 

He knew how to get to the library, The Sheriff had made sure he had access to it pretty early on in case it proved useful. Newt had spent a lot of time there in the past few months while Scott was at school, seeing as how the library was connected to the school and during lunches he and Scott could discuss new leads. And sometimes they would just talk about Thomas, who he was before the Maze, who he was in the Maze. Newt liked learning everything he could about who Thomas used to be and a lot of it surprised him. How he longed for Thomas in this moment. He would know what to do. Or rather, he would tell Newt the obvious, that this was a trap and make him promise not to go, then he’d sneak off to follow the lead on his own. So maybe that was his answer. 

 

Newts hands shook as he pulled his shoes on. This definitely had all the makings of a trap and Newt sat there a moment waiting for the overwhelming sense of wrong to back up what he already knew. Only this didn't feel wrong. For the first time in over six months, newt didn't feel wrong, he just felt anxious. Like whatever he was about to do was going to change everything. 

 

Newt didn't stop to consider that the last time he felt this kind of anxious excitement, he was clinging to ivy at the top of a wall. 

But did it really matter if it was a trap? What was the worst that could happen? The very worst thing was that he would be taken back to WICKED and even with all the horrid things that that would entail he would still more than likely get to see  _ Tommy _ . 

 

Newt paused with a hand on the doorknob. Trap or no. WICKED or no. He couldn't show up without some way of protecting himself. He practically tiptoed through the house, stopping in front of the Sheriff’s gun safe, which he was given the passkey to. So that meant that it would be okay to take one… right? It didn't feel right, even as he typed in the numbers and picked up a handgun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans like all the spies did in the movies that Scott would occasionally make them watch when ‘they needed a break’.

 

His bike was leaning against the post on the front porch and he walked it down the driveway. He didn't know how to drive, if he ever did know how, the knowledge was gone from his head. 

 

The bike ride went by too quickly before the School parking lot came into view. Even in Newt's excitement, he wasn't a complete idiot. He circled the school and library once, twice, three and four times. He was looking for anyone that could be waiting to ambush him but there was no one there. No cars, or people that he could see. But then again there was only so much he could see. He cursed under his breath and leaned his bike on a light pole. He should have brought a stupid werewolf, he thought to himself while heading to the library. As the library doors came into view that wrong feeling started to resurface... He took a deep breath and opened the door. 

 

The library, at first glance, looked empty. Newt hovered, just inside the door, cringing when it fell closed behind him. It wasn't loud but the soft click was the only interruption to the silence. Newt hated the silence. He hated how positively loud it was in his ears. 

 

Newt walked deeper into the library. The lights flickered on, stopping Newt in his tracks. 

 

“Bout time, shank.” Newt wasn't sure where the source of the voice was but something about it felt familiar.  _ Wrong _ Almost like a ghost.  _ Wrong!! _ Newt took a few steps forward but stopped again when he saw a figure appearing from between two bookshelves. Newt reached around to grip the handle of the gun. This was a mistake. This is a trap. This is wrong.  _ Wrong. _

 

“I know what you’re thinking.” The boy moved closer to Newt and he could see who it was clear as day. And it was wrong and wrong and wrong. He approached Newt with his hands held out in front of him. “Please, just listen” Newt’s heart was beating in his chest so hard he could feel it against his ribs. 

 

Newt pulled out his gun and pointed at the boy. 

 

“Newt please let me explain.” 

 

_ Wrong…  _


	2. Hold Your Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas looked up at the white ceiling,   
> He knew it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him,   
> not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo Here We Are! chapter two!!!!! please leave kudos if you haven't already and please please please let me know what you liked and what you didn't in the comments!!! love all of you who are still following this series <3<3 it really means a lot to me you guys you have noo idea

 

Thomas looked up at the white ceiling, He knew it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him, not anymore. Thomas closed his eyes against that sudden, painful realization. He knew he was just delaying the inevitable, that as soon as his eyes would open again the white ceiling would still be there, staring back at him. Laughing at him. He knew this but still laid there, on his back, trying to cling to the sudden need for it to all be a dream. 

 

He heard the door open, this was not a dream, and Thomas wasn't ready. 

 

“Tom,” He squeezed his eyes closed. He really really wasn't ready. “Tom” The voice repeated  _ her _ voice. “Tom,” must she call him that? “We just want to make this as easy as possible for you.” Thomas’s eyes opened without his permission, and he was greeted again by the white ceiling, which was definitely laughing at him. 

 

“Easy?” He asked incredulous, “What if this were you hoping to make easy?” He pulled himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his arms loosely around his knees. 

 

“We can make you as comfortable as possible, as long as you cooperate, I kept trying to tell you, Thomas, WICKED isn’t evil, we’re good. Trust me and I can show you how good.”  _ WICKED is good Tom, You have to trust me. _ lies, it was always lies with her and it broke his heart. 

 

“No offense Teresa but trusting you has never, ever worked out in my favor.” Thomas looked at his hands, or his feet, or the white floor, anywhere but at her. He did not, did not,  _ did not _ want to look at her and her sad eyes when he said this. 

 

“That's because you never actually trusted me.” She snarled with the same venom in her voice that she had in the parking lot. Thomas sat there for a moment, the silence thick between them, and then before Thomas really knew what he was doing, he was on his feet. 

 

“Teresa I trusted you from the moment you came up in the maze, we solved it  _ together _ , we got out together and dammit Teresa I trusted you, I worried about you when I couldn't find you in WICKEDs waystation. I risked  _ everyone's _ lives to make sure we got you out too.” Thomas was aware he was raising his voice, but he didn't care. “I trusted you even when none of the others did, and you turned us in! So don't say I never trusted you because I did. And because I did everyone around me, everyone who followed me ended up hurt or dead.” Thomas turned away from her, His hands were shaking at his sides. 

 

“Tom,” She started, her voice soft again and he wondered why she didn't just pick a personality and stick with it. The back and forth was driving him crazy. 

 

“Why are you here Teresa? Can’t you send someone else in to take my blood and torment me? He asked staring at the white of the wall and wishing it were any other color. 

 

“There's not many of us left, that's why we needed you, they’re, were, dying Tom.” He could  _ feel _ her getting closer. 

 

“Good,” he said, cold and hard just as he felt her hand rest on his shoulder. He spun around, pushing her hand off him. She was standing so close, too close. “Why are you here?” He repeated, keeping his voice as hard as he could. 

 

“To tell you that we’re giving you one chance.” She took a step back and Thomas felt like he could breathe again. “If you slip up, even once, everything is going to get bad for you.” He cringed at the echoed words from the first time he found himself in this godforsaken room. 

 

Thomas raised his eyebrows, he knew they were scared of him, just didn't realize they were scared enough to try to scare him first. Didn't matter, whatever hell they could think of, he'd been through worse, he lost Newt. 

 

“Tom, I'm serious,” Teresa said, clearly seeing the doubt in his eyes. 

 

“Yeah okay,” he said, barely getting the words out without laughing, he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

 

“I can’t protect you this time.” Thomas’s head snapped up. 

 

“Protect me, Teresa? Protect me? I'm sorry but i'm pretty sure we just agreed that all of this was your fault in the first place, so please tell me how you think that you've protected me?” if he was angry before, it had nothing on the way he felt now, like he wanted to hit something, needed to hit something. 

 

“They wanted to kill you, I bargained to keep you alive.” Thomas laughed then, hollow and humorless. 

 

“Because being alive has really gotten me so much, and anyway, they  _ need _ me, they aren't going to kill me like you said they're all dying.” Teresa looked away from him, to the floor between them. 

 

“This is your only warning Thomas,” She said, her voice turning cold, “keep that in mind.” And then she walked away, the door sliding closed behind her leaving Thomas alone and surrounded and angry. 

 

He didn't think before he turned around and laid his fist into the wall. Pain shot up his arm upon impact like needles and he did it again, and again. He couldn't tell if the roar he heard was from the blood rushing in his ears or the shout that tore through his throat. He wasn't satisfied until his knuckles painted the wall red where he hit. 

 

Thomas collapsed against the wall and slid down it. He didn't realize he was sobbing, he tucked his head in his arms and tried to force himself to breathe.  _ Hold your breath _ he heard a voice whisper in the back of his mind like a memory. 

 

Thomas wasn't sure how long he sat there, it felt like days before someone,  _ not Teressa _ came and wrapped up his hand, and scrubbed the wall clean. Thomas watched the process, feeling his stomach turn over as the evidence of his existence slowly disappeared. About a day after that they came to take his blood for the first time. 

 

Soon after, Thomas stopped trying to keep track of the days that passed in a white blur. Eventually, Teresa took over bleeding him dry and he couldn't even force himself to care. The world was just spinning around him while he sat on a bed that he couldn't remember getting on and ate food that he couldn't taste. He lived most weeks dizzy and nauseous and tired, always so tired. It didn't matter how much sleep he got, his eyelids were heavy. He found himself hoping they would take too much one day, that he'd fall asleep and never wake up but he knew better than that. But it never failed, as soon as he felt so far gone he couldn't move from his bed, he'd wake up the next day and the room was still and his thoughts were clear. Those days he almost felt sane, those days were the worst, because on those days he remembered. He remembered everything that he'd left behind, everything he'd thrown away, and he remembered Newt. 

 

Thomas drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to cling to sleep because being awake and aware was too much for him to handle. 

  
  


“Tommy.” this isn't real, Thomas thought when the voice reached him where he was curled in on himself. “Its okay Tommy, open your eyes.” Thomas wanted to. But he knew he had to be dreaming, he had to be. 

 

“Please baby, look at me.” Thomas heard himself whimper. He felt hands on his face, turning it up. “Its okay, I'm here.” Thomas’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment he was staring into Newt’s beautiful chocolate eyes. Thomas blinked and the eyes turned black. 

 

“Thank you, Tommy,” Newt whispered, standing a few feet in front of him, with a knife sticking out of his chest. 

 

“Newt.” Thomas breathed.

 

Newt fell.

 

Thomas lunged forward, his limbs moving on their own, and caught Newt a few feet off the ground, he cradled Newt in his lap, blood staining his hands and pants. 

  
  


Thomas woke up with tears drying on his face. He untangled himself from his sheet and walked along the wall, dragging his hand along it until he came to a corner and slid down the wall. 

 

“Thomas.” Thomas was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, with a splitting headache, when Janson showed up. “I must say I've enjoyed seeing you so… broken… These last two months.”  _ Two months? _ Thomas thought vaguely as he picked at the skin around his fingernails, peeling the skin up until it bled and he realized what he was doing. Thomas didn't look up, he knew that when he did he'd be met with Janson’s smug face. He already knew this would be different than the last few times Janson’s visited him. 

 

“I do wish though, Thomas, that you would have come to your senses sooner, maybe then fewer people would have gotten hurt.” Thomas tried to ignore the words, but he tasted the slightest hint of something metallic on his tongue and he could already feel the guilt settling in his stomach. Thomas peeked up at the Ratman through his lashes and saw he was pacing the room. “At least have the decency to look at me, boy.” Janson snapped. Thomas felt the corners of his mouth turn up, a sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth, then closed it, the ghost of a smile faded because Janson was right. They’d broken him. Thomas lifted his head, obediently, to look up at Janson. 

 

“That's better.” He grinned and Thomas felt nauseous again. “As I was saying if you had sucked it up and did as you were told then maybe we wouldn't have had to use Newt.” Thomas felt the lump rise in his throat and he bit down on his tongue hard, filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood. “Did you know, by the way, that if someone were to say, resist when we tried to control them. The chip in their head would have a reaction, emitting some of the worst pain a person could live through?” Ratman stopped pacing and watched as Thomas processed that information. Thomas’s stomach churned. 

 

“Newt resisted.” Thomas closed his eyes against the picture Janson was painting. 

 

Janson laughed a sick sound that twisted around Thomas and filled the room like there were hundreds of him. It reminded Thomas of someone else,  _ something else _ Something  _ wicked _ something… Stop, stop  _ Stop _ Thomas wanted to beg. Beg Janson, beg his own mind, but the words wouldn't come and Thomas was stuck imagining Newt in pain, because of him. 

 

“Would you like to know how long he resisted?” It was all Thomas could do not to clamp his hands over his ears and start yelling because he did not _did not_ **_did not_** want to know. Thomas dropped his head to his knees. 

 

“I said look at me, boy” Janson yelled, and Thomas's head was being pulled up, painfully, by his hair, until all Thomas could see was Janson, glaring at him. “Weeks.” Janson spat in Thomas' face, before letting him go. 

 

“Stop.’ Thomas managed to choke out. His voice rough and cracked, barely even a whisper. 

 

“He fought it so hard, oh, the way he screamed.” Thomas felt the room around him fall away. The white replaced with darkness. “Did you know we kept him in this room right here?” Jansons' voice came out muffled like he was talking through a wall and he looked so far away. He was all Thomas could see. 

 

“Stop.” Thomas almost didn't recognize his own voice, it sounded different, hollow. 

 

“Of course we didn't let him have a bed or food most days, it was easier to get him a bit more under control when he was malnourished and sleep deprived,” Janson ignored him and Thomas felt his body moving without his permission.  _ Was he standing up? _

 

“By the end of course, when he wouldn't stop, we had to infect him again just to take over control.” Thomas was moving, he was sure of it, Janson was getting closer and closer but he was numb. The darkness was folding around him, embracing him, surrounding him, drowning him. 

 

He was hitting Janson, Thomas realized, as his fist connected with his face. He didn't remember deciding to hit Janson but he was grateful when he felt his fist connect. He kept hitting him. Even when the door slid open he kept hitting him, when a guard grabbed his arm he easily shook him off and kept hitting Janson. Thomas didn't know how many guards it took to get him to stop,  he didn’t really remember stopping only that now he was on his back and the darkness was fading, receding, and letting the white bleed back into the walls, and the ceiling that was laughing at him. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” So maybe it wasn't the ceiling and the walls that were laughing at him, Thomas thought as he opened his eyes slowly, not that it mattered if his eyes were open or not. It was disconcerting how in this place he was essentially blind. Thomas vaguely remembered being afraid of being blind. Afraid of not being able to see and he found this funny because it was just so trivial. The fear of the dark? Of being blinded? How many times did Thomas wish to gouge out his own eyes while watching them torture Newt? The dark was nothing compared to that. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” The voice asked again, in the voice that sounded almost like his own only colder, hollow even. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” Thomas didn't know. To be fair, Thomas didn't know a whole lot. Like whether this place was real or just something his subconscious created. He also didn't know if he was crazy or not, really the signs were all there. He didn't know if he'd ever see Newt again. Actually, that was a lie, he knew that. He knew he'd never get that chance. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” 

 

“Who are you?” Thomas tried asking the empty space around where he was still laying. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” Thomas groaned. 

 

“I don't know.” 

 

“When is a door not a door, Stiles?”  Thomas didn't even notice the use of his old name because he knew this voice. He knew it and he couldn't place it. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” he’d heard it in a basement somewhere, he was hurt and he woke up in a basement? The thing looked like its head was wrapped in some sort of bandages and its teeth were black. Thomas remembered what it looked like what it  _ really _ looked like. 

 

“When is a door not a door Stiles?” The voice got louder and he could hear loud noises all around him. Like a machine was surrounding him. 

 

“When is a door not a door??” It yelled. And he was looking at it standing in front of him and it was flickering between looking like him and a monster with black teeth. 

 

“When is a door not a door?” 

 

_ When it's ajar, _ Thomas thought as the image faded into the black he was used to, the images didn’t make sense and he was tired. He didn't say it out loud but the voice didn't ask again, and Thomas wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The void fell into silence around him and he was so so tired. He tried to wonder how he could be tired if this was supposed to be a dream. He felt the darkness pressing into him.

 

\-----

 

Thomas grew cold almost instantly as something was thrown over him. His entire body was shaking and he worked to breathe, to suck air into his lungs, but all he could manage was a gasp of shock, and then he opened his eyes. 


	3. Gally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt let me explain
> 
> ......
> 
> We’re coming, Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy chapter three! this one was a pain let me tell you. but I hope it was worth it. please let me know what you think, what you liked what you didn't all that good stuff and I hope to see in chapter four. 
> 
> speaking of chapter four. it's going to be a little different than the rest of the chapters. so well see how you like it. here's a little peek:
> 
> And the voice that mocked his played on repeat in his head.  
> “Everyone has it but no one can lose it”
> 
> so you have that to look forward to! 
> 
> again comments are insanely appreciated and really help me stay motivated! <3<3<3

“Newt let me explain.”

Newts hands shook in between them clasped around the gun pointed at the person standing in front of him, the person who _shouldn't be_  standing in front of him.

“How…” Newts voice fell as he stared at the boy, the words getting lost somewhere in his throat. “I saw you die..” he finally managed only barely keeping his voice steady.

“No, you left me to die,” Gally said simply with no hint of anger or resentment behind the word. Maybe that was why Newt lowered his gun, letting his arm hanging limply by his side. Gally was standing in front of him, alive. Newt wanted to believe this was real and true, he wanted to believe that Gally was here to help him, but Newt remembered then _why_  Gally should be dead and he raised his gun again pointing it at his head.

“You killed chuck.” The words fell flat but it hurt him to say it. To acknowledge what Newt had yet to fully come to terms with. Gally killed Chuck. But he was _stung_  and Newt remembered how gally used to be.

“Yeah, I did. And I wouldn’t blame you if you pulled that trigger, hell under different circumstances I might have asked you to. But I cant change what I did, what they made me do. What I can do is help you get Thomas back.” Newt moved the gun to his other hand when Gally shifted forward.

“How?” he asked

“Well, WICKED picked me up where you left me, they patched me up and I went crazy, let them think they broke me, played the part of the whipped puppy, eventually they didn't know what to do with me and after they got tired of kicking me around my guy on the inside helped me disappear before they could put me down.”

“Somone on the inside?” Newt scoffed. “And how do I know you not just waiting to bloody turn me in?” Newt asked stepping forward until the gun was nearly touched Gally's head.

“You don't. But the real question is what are you willing to risk to get him back?” Newt dropped his arm and stared at gally because he was right. It didn't matter if he could get Tommy back hed do anything.

“Okay,” Newt said finally. “What do we do.”

“We get to work.”

 

  
Newt found himself sitting on the old cracked leather couch in the Sheriff's office nursing his fourth cup of coffee that morning. He couldn't take his eyes off the clock as he waited. The Sheriff sat behind his desk shuffling papers and Scott sat beside him, bouncing his leg up and down.

Newt’s coffee was cold in his hands but he sipped it anyway, willing the caffeine to wake him up. It's been three days since his meet up with Gally and he hadn't slept more than an hour since because of the anxiety and excitement that fought for control over his stomach. Most nights anxiety won out.

“He should have been here by now,” Scott said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room and practically jumping to his feet to pace.

“Yeah and he bloody will be.”

“How do you even know if we can trust him Newt, I mean based on what I know about WICKED they don't just let people go. What you've told us about his story doesn't make sense with what we've seen.” Newt fought the urge to groan, Scott had a point. There was a lot to Gally’s story that had bothered him too. But there was more that gave Newt hope, real, tangible hope.

“It's the only new lead we’ve had in months.” Newt insisted, not wanting to get into Gally's story with him again.

“Newts right, and while I might not trust the kid I at least want to hear him out.” The Sheriff said looking up from his desk.

“But isn't this the guy that Thomas told us about?” Scott said turning to face the Sheriff instead of Newt.” The one that shot that kid?” Scott was leaning on the Sheriff's desk and newt was grateful nobody was looking at him. It still hurt him to think about, Chuck had been the little brother to all the gladers. The one everyone took responsibility for. And even when he was at his most annoying there was no one who wouldn't sit there and listen to his ramblings and as much as the gladers wanted to make it easier for him, it was only Tommy that really made a difference.

“He didn't have a choice,” Newt said quietly, he hadn't really meant to say anything but he remembered how hard he fought WICKEDs control and how it didn't matter, he still stood there and shot Thomas's dad. Newt glanced up at Scott who was looking at him now and tried not to look guilty.

“But I don't buy that, I’d gladly die before I would let someone make me shoot a kid,” Scott argued. Newt tried to remind himself that Scott didn't _really_  know what WICKED was capable of, he didn't _really_  understand the technology. But Newt’s hands shook in his lap so violently he had to cram them between his legs to get them to still.

“You know they can control us,” Newt worked to keep his voice steady, “to do things we would never have done.” He wondered, not for the first time if anyone other than Thomas knew he was the one who shot the Sheriff. “And not that it makes anything better, but he wasn't aiming at chuck.”

“You’re right Newt, it doesn't make anything better.” everyone looked to the door where Gally was now standing.

“Are you Gally?” The sheriff asked.

“Yes, sir.” Gally didn't move from the doorway.

“Tell me, Gally, are you going to help me find my son or are you going to lure us all into a trap?”

“I’m going to do everything I can to help find Thomas.” The sheriff looked at Scott probably to see if he was lying, and Newt felt a flood of relief when Scott nodded.

“Alright then, tell us what we need to know.”

Gally told his story, starting from when WICKED found him almost dead to now. Scott watched Gally intently, listening for any signs he wasn't telling the truth. The Sheriff looked between Gally and Scott, and Newt watched them all until Gally finished his story. He left out the most gruesome parts, which Newt thought was for the best, they needed to know how WICKED works, they didn't need to know the extent WICKED was willing to go.

“So he could be at either of these, I have the coordinates and I know the layout of both but I don’t know which one is it.” Gally motioned to the hand-drawn maps he had spread out across the Sheriffs desk. Where everyone was huddled around.

“So we check out both?” Scott said, looking over both maps. Newt shook his head and bit at what was left of his thumb nail, wishing someone else would point out what a bad idea that was so he wouldn't have to. As it was Scott could probably already hear how fast his heart was racing.

“Splitting up is going to be too risky.” The Sheriff said and Newt sighed in relief.

“Yeah he's right, if we split up we’re weaker,” Gally said, making eye contact with first the sheriff then Newt, who looked instead at his feet.

“Then how do we know which one to go to?” Scott asked, his voice rising slightly, making Newt flinch. Really the smart plan would be split down the middle and stake out both options, at least that would be the smart option if they didn't already know which one Thomas was in.

“Well, I'm pretty confident he's in this one,” Gally said, pulling a map from the bottom of the pile and spreading it out over the top of the rest. It wasn't one of the hand-drawn maps, it was half a map of the united states. There were two red circles on the map and Gally was pointing to one of them.

“How do you know? Did you see him?” The Sheriff asked.

“No, but it's the only one that makes sense, this one is the only one within range of Beacon Hills.” Gally started

“In range of what?” Scott interrupted.

“In range of these,” Gally said, pulling a beetle blade out of his bag and placing it on top of the map.

“What the hell is that?” Scott asked.

“A beetle blade.” Newt breathed in deep, his voice catching in his throat, Gally hadn't told him about this part. Both Scott and the Sheriff looked at him.

“And what exactly is a beetle blade?” The Sheriff asked.

“It's the way they monitored us in the Maze and in the glade. They’re basically cameras for WICKED.” Gally answered. “And this one is deactivated. I found it in my apartment where I was hiding a few months ago and realized I never really escaped, so I relocated. Haven't seen any since, until I got here. They’re everywhere here, and the only way WICKED can be controlling this many of them they’d have to be doing it from this location.” Gally pointed to one of the red circles on the map again.

“And how do you know they don't just have one guy there controlling them?” Scott asked.

“Same reason we don't want to split up.” Newt jumped in before Gally could answer. “There's hardly anyone left in WICKED,” which was true. “They would be stupid to split up when they know we're not going to rest until we get Thomas back. They would want everyone they have available and together.” Which was also technically true. And if his heart was skipping, it had been for three days so how would Scott know he wasn't just really nervous?

“Yeah, that makes sense.” The Sheriff said half under his breath, he was still looking at the maps pulling the hand drawn one of the facilities they were talking about to the top.

“Okay then, so now we know the plan. When are we leaving?” Newt asked

“Well hold on now, we still have a lot we need to think about.” The Sheriff looked up from the maps.

“The facility is what? Six hours away? It's been over six months, who knows what they’re bloody doing to him” Newt cringed, he knows what could happen, he knows exactly what almost definitely is happening to Thomas and his stomach churned with the thought of it.

“Give me the night,” Scott said suddenly. “Give me the night to get the pack ready. You need to go home, I know for a fact you haven't slept in days and it'll be no good if you pass out there. We can be ready to leave first thing in the morning.” The Sheriff was nodding along and looking at Scott. Gally and Newt exchanged a glance and Gally nodded. It was all going exactly how Newt thought it would.

“Scotts right kid, you look like death. Come on, let's get you home and get you to sleep.” The sheriff said, putting a hand on Newt’s shoulder. Newt glanced at Gally again who just shrugged and looked back to what he was doing.

 

“Stiles could be a handful when he was younger.” The Sheriff started talking out of nowhere pulling Newt’s attention away from the window. “Constantly getting himself into trouble and lying about it. Of course, I always saw right through him, he was an awful liar.” Newt squirmed in his seat. “Now, I know how much my son means to you, I can see it written all over your face, and I know he feels the same way about you. He trusts you and my son doesn't just trust anyone. He just doesn't.” Newt felt heat rising up his neck and into his cheeks. “Just tell me that whatever you and Gally are planning, Whatever you boys are hiding from me, is necessary to get my boy back” The Sheriff’s voice cracked at the end and Newt looked at him for a while, wondering how he thought they'd be able to keep anything from him.

“It's the only way to get him back,” Newt said as they pulled into the driveway. The Sheriff nodded and turned off the car.

“Alright. Just, I don't want anyone getting hurt.” Newt stayed quiet as they made it into the house. Newt yawned, despite it barely being four in the afternoon, he was exhausted. Three days without sleep finally catching up to him.

“Get some sleep kid.” The sheriff said softly heading to his own room. Newt made it into the living room and fell onto the couch, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

  
Newt dreamt of the heat of the glade, the sunshine and the smell of fresh earth in the gardens. The way his muscles ached after a day’s worth of hard work. He dreamt of Frypan’s cooking, Chuck’s never-ending stories, and ivy-covered walls. He dreamt of Thomas and change and doors that wouldn't close at night. He dreamt of Thomas and running the maze for the first time since his jump. He dreamt of jumping and gunshots and bleeding and the choked noise of Thomas sobbing. He dreamt of the heat of the scorch that burned and chapped the skin and sand that felt like glass against his face. He dreamt of cranks and running and a voice chanting, ‘Rose ate my nose I suppose’. He dreamt of sitting around a campfire and fire and explosions and shouting and white rooms and white-hot pain and Thomas. Always, always Thomas. Thomas in a WICKED uniform, Thomas, and Teresa, Tommy's voice telling him everything would be okay. He dreamt of Thomas holding him, carrying him. Until he wasn't. Until he was being pulled away and away and away from Thomas.

 

Newt woke up to a dark room covered in sweat. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. A quick look at his phone told him it was just barely two in the morning. An hour before Gally would show up to get him. Four hours before they were supposed to leave, because this was it. They were going to get Thomas.

Newt sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His heartbeat unsteady in his chest as he worried over the plan him and Gally had come up with that night in the library. They were splitting up, The Sheriff was going to follow the plan and he and Gally were going to get Thomas. In the other facility. Newt didn't like to lie to the sheriff after everything he’d done for him, but if the sheriff knew what they wanted to do he wouldn't allow it and Newt wasn't going to take no for an answer.

He shuffled down the hallway into the bathroom He couldn't risk starting the shower and waking the Sheriff so he settled for splashing cold water on his face. The priority would be getting Thomas out of course, but there was something else Newt wanted, and Gally wanted it too. They didn't just want to save Thomas, they wanted to wipe out WICKED, by whatever force necessary. They couldn't do it alone though, they needed backup. The problem was the only one that seemed to not need Scott’s permission to do something, wasn't answering his phone.

Newt stood there, watching the water dripping off the ends of his hair and falling into the sink, for a long time if everything went okay then this would be the end. They wouldn't have to live just out of WICKED’s reach waiting for something awful to happen. It would be really and truly over. Newt sighed and pushed away from the sink and  _did not_  look at the hole in the bathroom wall on his way out.

He pulled a backpack out from under the couch, it had been packed for days since he met Gally in the library. He carefully slide it over his shoulder and tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to make any noise he pulled out a marker and wrote;

_Couldn't wait any longer, I’m going to get Thomas, I’ll see you there._   
_-Newt_

It was a lie, of course, it was a lie but it would ensure the Sheriff went to the right place. That was it the last thing he had to do. He glanced around once more before heading out the door to wait for Gally.

Only Gally wasn't alone when he showed up. For a second Newt was terrified he was showing up with someone from WICKED until he realized the person walking beside Gally was Scott.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Newt asked it was far too early in the morning for any of this.

“Scott’s coming with us, he knew we were planning something and he wanted in. Plus, he has the keys to the car.” Gally shrugged.

“What car?” Newt asked

“Thomas's jeep, you ready?” Scott asked jogging up the driveway.

“Are you bloody stupid Slinthead?” Newt hissed, “we can't start that thing without waking the Sheriff up.”

“The Sheriff isn't going to wake up until later, I promise.” Newt looked at Scott incredulously

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” He asked Scott and Gally were already climbing into the jeep and Newt was still standing there.

“It means he's asleep and he’s fine, would you get in?” Newt stood there a minute before relenting and jumping into the back of the jeep.

Newt tensed when Scott started the car but when the Sheriff didn’t run out of the house he let himself relax, well as much as he was capable of since he was on his way to WICKED and all. They hadn’t driven a full five minutes before Scott was slamming on the breaks, sending Newt forward in his seat.

“What happened?” he asked, but he didn't need to because standing in the middle of the road was a girl. Newt panicked for a moment, thinking it was Terresa.

“Lydia, what are you doing here?” Scott asked the girl and the more Newt looked at her the more he recognized her as a part of Scott’s pack.

“Did you really think I was going to let you leave without me?” She asked, smiling widely.

“Would you just get in,” Scott growled. Definitely part of Scott's pack, he thought,

“Gladly,” she said. As she came closer Newt could make her out better, she was dressed all in black, which definitely wouldn't help them sneaking into WICKED, he thought dryly, and was carrying a tray of to-go cups in one hand. Before he could offer to help her she had already climbed into the seat next to Newt. “Hi I'm Lydia, I brought coffee. You’re Thomas's boyfriend right?” She said holding a cup out to him.

“Newt,” he said taking the cup from her. She laughed and Newt decided he might actually like her if they lived through this.

Scott started moving again as Lydia handed Gally a cup of coffee and introduced herself and Newt found himself staring out the side of the jeep. The wind was loud as it hit his face and whipped through his hair.

“We’re coming, Tommy.” He whispered so quietly he couldn't hear himself over the roar of the wind. “Just hold on a little longer, we’re coming.” 


	4. Let Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas thought he was dying most days. How could anyone this cold be living?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like I said this chapter is a bit different than the others so let me know how you like it. the next chapter will be back to normal though. 
> 
> so please please please please let me know what you think???? 
> 
> I love everyone that's taken the time to read my works <3<3<3

Thomas was cold. It was the kind of cold that you never knew could exist until you felt it. He felt it in his  _ bones _ . People were surely talking to him, taunting him, but all he could think about was white ice.

 

“I can help you, but you have to let me in.” the voice from his nightmares snaked through his mind even as he was awake. His vision darkened in pulses with the voice and Thomas struggled to tell it to go away. 

 

The white cold was only ever interrupted by red-hot pain that came in unexpected waves like he was back on Monroe's fence. 

 

Thomas thought he was dying most days. How could anyone this cold be  _ living?  _

 

Thomas hated the bright white of the walls that swallowed him whole. 

 

He hated the pitch black that awaited him in his dreams accompanied by the voice whispering that it could be making everything better. He knew better, it didn't exist. 

 

Thomas can't remember if he eats or if they still take his blood. The only thing he knows is cold and pain and white walls. 

 

White walls and white ceilings and white floors. 

 

And red stains on his white clothes.

 

And white hot pain and Janson. 

 

And the voice that mocked his played on repeat in his head.

“Everyone has it but no one can lose it”

 

Janson was always so  _ angry _ when he visited Thomas. 

 

And it was always so loud. 

                                          Why was it  _ loud? _

 

“Because you're screaming” the voice that wasn't quite his answered. 

 

It hurt too much. 

 

It was blinding 

                     and cold 

                                and white 

                                             and pain 

Go to sleep 

_                    go to sleep _

                                       escape 

_                                                    escape _

**_escape_ **

 

The darkness of his dreams was no better. 

 

“Let me in.” 

                  “everyone has it but no one can lose it, what is it?” 

“Let me in” 

              The voice was louder here. 

 

Too loud. 

 

He wanted to go home. To Newt. 

 

For Newt

                For Newt 

                                anything for Newt

                                                            everything 

_                                                                              for Newt _

 

Wake up. 

            Wake up. 

_                         wake up. _

 

It's too cold. 

                  and numb  _ and cold _

 

It hurts. 

_              please stop _

 

It's Too much. 

_                      too much _

 

And dizzy 

           and dizzy 

                      and dizzy 

        and scream 

 

The world around him was spinning

                                              turning him 

                                                     upside down. 

 

Janson was standing above him. 

 

No more 

         no more 

                  no more 

                           please 

_ no more _ . 

 

“I can take your pain away.” 

               The voice whispered in his ear and he wanted to believe it. 

 

No more 

          no more

 

“Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?” its cold  

                                                                                             and blinding 

                                                                                                                and pain.

 

And screaming screaming 

_                                    screaming _

stop 

       stop 

_                stop _ . 

 

“What is it?” 

              what is it? 

_                          what is it? _

 

Its never ending pain at Jansons' hand. 

 

“What am I?” wrong 

                              and wrong 

**_and wrong_ **

 

Please no more make it stop make it stop 

                                                                     stop 

**_stop._ **

“All you have to do is let me in.” 

 

It's too much. 

 

“Everyone has it.”

 

                              Too cold

 

“No one can lose it.” 

 

_ Too much _

 

“What is it?”

 

Make it stop

                       stop 

                                   stop

                                                stop

 

“WHAT IS IT?” 

 

What is it 

                 what is it 

                                  make it  **_stop_ **

 

                                                                                    A shadow 

_                                                                   A shadow  _

**_A shadow_ **

“Let me in”

 

_ In _

_        In  _

_                  IN  _

**_IN_ **

**_I_ **

**_N_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, side notes... I have a few works I've been sitting on that correspond to this series like side stories. so I wasn't sure if I should post them to the series when I was done with the original trilogy. What do yall think?


	5. Divine Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt was a mess of nerves.   
> They needed to be inside already.  
> But here they were in a parked car not doing anything but waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooowwwwww so this chapter kinda took me by surprise. it took way longer than I'd planned, ended up being longer itself, and a lot of things came out that I hadn't intended. so I hope you enjoy it. please let me know what you think, what you like, what you don't like, really just anything would be appreciated. as always I hope you like it and I hope to see you in the next chapter. were coming up on the end here. anyone excited?

Newt was a mess of nerves. Any minute now the Sheriff would be getting to the other facility, and he’d realize they weren't there. They needed to be inside already, hell, Newt wanted to be out with Tommy and already on their way to the Sheriff by now. But here they were in a parked car not doing anything but waiting.

 

Logically Newt knew why they needed to wait, but he had been waiting for months and he just couldn't sit still. They were all watching what looked like an unfinished warehouse. According to Gally, WICKED was underneath, this was just their way in. And so they waited and watched until finally,  _ finally _ , they could see movement. A man in a white lab coat was walking into the building with his back to them. Newt almost let himself feel bad for the man until he saw the WCKD logo on his back.

 

“Alright now remember, once they know we’re here we’ll only have a few minutes to get out so watch your back. The cameras are off thanks to my friend on the inside, so let's go.” Gally said before they all exited the Jeep. Scott and Gally jogged to catch up to the man and by the time Newt and Lydia had caught up to them, he was on the ground and Gally was holding his key card.  

 

“Alright, we’re going in. Newt, find Thomas. I’ll go after Minho.” Newt could only nod mutely as Gally scanned the card and opened the door. They filed through silently, first Gally and Scott then Lydia then Newt.

 

He had talked the plan over with Gally multiple times. He knew the layout backward and forwards, he knew how often the guards patrolled and he knew when the security protocols were. But nothing prepared him for the panic that set in the moment he walked through the door. He had been here before, this very spot, waiting for instructions, unable to fight the control anymore, how much it had  _ hurt. _

 

“Are you okay?” Lydia was asking him, but her voice sounded like she was speaking to him through a wall. He needed to tell her he was fine, he needed to  _ be _ fine, for Tommy. He needed to move.

 

“Yeah. let's get this bloody over with.” he managed through his teeth. Scott and Gally were ahead of them, walking down the long hallway that provided no cover if someone started shooting at them. They needed to be quick. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get Tommy out of here.

 

The floor was slanted down, gradually leading them deeper and deeper underground, into WICKED, closer to Thomas. Thomas was waiting for him, Thomas was down here. Newt reached into his bag that hung across his shoulder and pulled out the gun, he kept it low at his side but having it out and ready, made him feel better. 

 

Gally held out his hand, motioning them all to stop where the hallway ended in a T-intersection.  “Okay, there's two guards to the right, Scott and I can handle them while you two go left, there shouldn't be any guards going that way for another 15 minutes, so look for Thomas.” in the back of his mind Newt knew this meant they were splitting up now, of course, that had been the plan in the first place but it didn't stop him from fretting. he pushed the thought away as Scott and Gally disappeared around the corner. 

 

Newt’s hands were sweaty around the gun as he peeked around the corner to see one guard down and the other being attacked by Scott. He looked back at Lydia who stood out in all black against the off-white of the walls. 

 

“Alright, let's go,” he whispered and they started in the opposite direction from the others. The hallways were long and eerily empty like Gally had said they would be, WICKED was weak, and running out of people, Not to mention the few personnel they did have were split between here and where they'd sent the sheriff’s team.

 

They walked quickly until they came across the first door. Lydia glanced at him and he tried the doorknob, which opened easily to reveal an empty office, Newt slid his gun back into his bag. They walked in slowly and looked around. Lydia sat down at a computer and Newt started going through drawers, which were mostly empty, until he found a black leather bound book. Newt stared at it for a minute then slid it into his bag. 

 

“I found him,” Lydia said, breaking the silence between them. Newt looked up. 

 

“Where?” 

 

“It just says Room B.” She frowned. Newt walked over to look over her shoulder. The majority of the screen was taken up by a picture of Thomas from one of his first days in WICKED. Under the picture it said, Room B, subject A2, to be killed by group B. Status: The Cure. property of WICKED.

 

Newt stared at ‘The Cure’ for a long time. Doubt swam in Newt’s stomach. All this time they'd been going on the idea that he was still alive, that they obviously needed him so there’d be no reason to kill him. But Newt remembered how terrified Thomas had been when he was describing the kids that hung from hooks in rows of fifty,  _ that isn't living _ Thomas had said to him while the others slept. Newt didn't know what he would do if he found Thomas like that. 

 

“The Cure? The cure for what? What does this mean? Newt?” Lydia looked at him with wide eyes. 

 

“It means we’re back at square one and running out of time, let's go.” She shut the computer off and followed him out of the room.

 

He closed the door behind them and they kept walking. They passed almost a dozen empty rooms before Newt stopped, Two guards were walking past the hallway, but they weren't looking in their direction. 

 

“What is it?” Lydia whispered, not seeing the guards. It didn't matter that she whispered, her words still bounced off the walls, alerting the guards they were there. 

 

“Stop where you are!” one of them shouted. Newt grabbed Lydia's arm and pulled her down a hallway to their right which, according to Gally’s maps, was not supposed to be here. He could hear the footsteps coming closer and without thinking he shoved himself into the first door he came to. He tried to pull Lydia along behind him but at the last second her arm was ripped out of his hold. 

 

“Lydia!” He jumped to his feet but before he could grab for her the door fell shut. Panic rose inside him when he found there wasn’t a door handle, Newt felt along the door looking for a way to get it open but only found he couldn’t open the door from the inside. Newt backed up from the door and held his gun in both hands, ready for the guards to storm in and grab him. He waited a full minute, and then two, and then three. And when nothing happened Newt dropped the gun to his side and started looking around the room. 

 

The first thing that caught Newt’s eye was the alarming amount of red. The floor was almost covered in it. And the walls were splattered with the color as well. The most disturbing aspect of the color was how it looked like someone had  _ smeared _ it across the walls with their hands.

 

It was when Newt’s gaze settled on the source of the color that he thought he might be sick. The body was almost unrecognizable.  _ Almost _ . The only thing he could make out of the person was one eye left open and unseeing. Newt couldn't look at it anymore, he didn't want to. He looked away from the body and saw a strip of material lying by his feet. Without thinking Newt knelt to pick it up. It was stained red but Newt could make out the name on it.  _ Janson _ Newt dropped the scrap and stepped away from it as if it would come to life and bite him. Newt’s vision swam red and he didn't think it was because of the blood. He was overwhelmed with memories of Janson’s voice over a loudspeaker. Of Janson’s voice in his head. Of Janson controlling him, whispering in his ear, telling him to do the darkest things, and hurting him when he fought it. Newt shivered and looked around the room again. 

 

The room that used to be all white. The room with doors that could only open from the outside. A room with no beds. A room that he now saw had something in the corner of it. Newt took a half step forward. Not  _ something, _ someone. Someone that was curled in on themselves. Someone that was shaking so violently it could be seen across the room. Someone with hair matted in red. Someone with blood covering their hands. 

Thomas. 

 

Newt dropped the gun on the floor and ran the short length of the room, slipping on blood and landing at Thomas's side. 

  
  


“Tommy,” he whispered, grabbing his shoulders and turning him so he could get a good look at him. Thomas was staring at him with wide, terrified, tear-filled eyes. 

 

“Newt?” his voice barely came out as a whimper that had his bottom lip quivering. Then Thomas was launching himself at Newt, his hands grabbed at Newt’s shirt and he buried his face in Newt’s shoulder. Newt’s arms immediately tighten around him in a way that felt like  _ finally. _

 

“I'm here Tommy, I’m here. You’re going to be okay now,” he whispered into Thomas’s hair as Thomas shook.

 

“Newt, are you really here? Is this..” When Thomas pulled away Newt couldn't remember ever seeing him like this. His eyes were wide like he was looking at the world for the first time but all he was seeing was blood. “Did I?” he looked down at his hands that were fisted in Newts shirt, his hands that were covered in a thick layer of blood. “No…” Thomas's voice was broken. Newt grabbed Thomas's hand before he could pull away, keeping the most of it out of Thomas's view.

 

“No Thomas look at me, I don't know what happened here,” Newt glanced at Janson’s body and shivered. “But what I do know is that this wasn't your fault, okay? You didn't do this.” Realistically Newt didn't know any of this to be true but he did know Thomas and his kind heart.

 

“No, no I remember, I,” Newt tried to keep a hold of Thomas’s hands but he was moving so violently he nearly fell backward. “You have to go.” 

 

“What are you bloody talking about? come on I’m getting you out of here.” Newt said shakily, grabbing for Thomas’s arm. 

 

“No. no. no” Thomas mumbled, shaking his head and backing himself farther into the corner, curling in on himself. 

 

“Tell me what's going on Thomas,” Newt said gently, trying to coax Thomas out of the corner. 

 

“No no no, I don't need your help anymore,” Thomas whispered, knotting his hands in his hair and _ pulling _ Newt knelt there, his hands outstretched to Thomas but not touching him, he didn't know if he  _ could  _ touch him without Thomas reacting, the same way he’d thrown himself into the corner.

 

“Thomas we have to get out of here.” He had to find a way out of this room, find the others. Find  _ Lydia _ and get them  _ out _ of there. They were running out of time and Newt could  _ feel _ it.

 

“Go away..” Thomas whimpered as he rocked back and forth, Newt leaned over Thomas, ready to grab him and force him out if he had to.“GO AWAY!” Thomas yelled again, Newt jumped to his feet. Thomas stopped rocking back and forth and his hands fell from his hair. Newt couldn't remember a time where Thomas was this still. His eyes stared, unseeing at Newt’s feet.

 

“Tommy?” he asked slowly, wanting to get closer to him, but not sure how he’d react if he did. 

 

“You should have listened to him,” Thomas said, his voice flat and sorta muffled.

 

“Listened to who?” Newt was overwhelmed, the sense of wrong he'd been feeling for months came back in full force. Thomas began to laugh, the sound bounced off the walls like there were a million of him, it was a twisted broken sound and it had the hair on Newt’s arm standing on end, and most of all it was not Tommy. 

 

“You're too late Newt, he doesn't need you anymore.” Thomas looked up at Newt, but his eyes were cold and dead and looked sunken in.

 

“Wh- What do you mean Tommy?” Thomas rose to his feet, and Newt took an involuntary step back.

 

“I saved him. And where were you?” Now that Thomas was standing Newt could better see how his clothes hung off of him like there was nothing holding them in place. “Where were you when they were taking his blood, sucking him dry? Where were you when they were slicing him open day after day only to heal him up and start over?” He took another step forward and lifted up his red stained shirt that showed angry lines running across his chest and stomach. Newt stumbled backward, his vision blurred around the lines. “He was awake for every one of these, you wanna know why? Because of you. Because of what they did to you.” Newt tore his gaze away from Thomas when he stumbled on something that looked like it might have belonged to Janson. Newt felt like he was going to be sick. “Where were you when they tied him to a fence and electrocuted him? You weren't here,  _ I _ was and  _ I _ saved him.”

 

Newt continued backward until he felt the cool wall at his back. “Where do you think you’re going?” Thomas asked with a smirk, his head tilted to the side, “We’re just getting started Newtie. Tell me, do you want to hear about how they used you against him? Would you like to hear about all the things he thought while he was being drained of blood and tortured on top of that?” Newt could only shake his head. He didn't recognize the look in Thomas’s eyes. He didn't recognize the voice that came from Thomas’s lips. He didn't recognize the boy standing in front of him.

  
  


“You’re not Thomas.” 

  
  


“I am now. You see, he let me in. he let me save him and he knows that there's a price to pay for that. I ended his pain so now I come and go as I please.” Newt couldn't say he really understood what was going on but somehow he felt like this wasn't something WICKED did to him. 

 

“What are you? Is this WICKED? Or something else?” it was the something else that scared him. The something else that could mean anything. For the first time newt almost  _ hoped  _ this was WICKED.

 

“I think you know the answer to that question,” Thomas answered and it was  _ wrong _ something unnatural. Something not even WICKED could pull off.

 

“Where did you come from?” 

 

“I have always been here. But enough with the questions. Let's play.” Thomas was in front of him now and Newt did not like the way he said  _ play _ or the way he was grinning. 

 

“Thomas hoped he'd never see you again, did you know that?” Newt didn't have time to think about the words because Thomas grabbed the front of his shirt and  _ threw _ him across the room. Newt landed not even a foot away from Janson. Newt  _ did not _ look at him. 

 

Newt pushed himself back to his feet as soon as he could catch his breath again. 

 

“Tommy, I know you're in there.” He said and Thomas made his way across the room to stand in front of him again. 

 

“Oh Newt, that's cute,” Thomas said, straightening Newt’s shirt and brushing Imaginary dirt off of his shoulders before punching him in the face. Newt almost fell to the side but he forced himself to stay standing. Thomas punched him again. And newt could  _ feel _ his nose breaking.

 

Newt tasted blood on his lip and his nose screamed in pain but he stood back up. “It's okay Tommy,” he said in almost a whisper, Newt didn't know what else to do, he didn't know how this worked if Thomas could hear him or not, but he wanted him to know just in case. Thomas threw him to the ground again, and Newt slid on Janson’s blood.

 

“Honestly Newt, Thomas can't hear you, and even if he could, he doesn't care.” Newt felt Thomas grab his arm and yank him up. “It's just you and me now.” Thomas shoved him against the wall behind him and punched him again. Newt bit back a groan and spit out the blood that had filled his mouth. “You’re not easy to break,” Thomas said, cocking his head to the side. Newt didn’t respond. Thomas pulled him away from the wall by his shirt the slammed him back into it, Newt heard the crack his head made as it hit the wall before he felt it. “What's it going to take?” Thomas leaned his entire body against Newts. “Hmm, Newt?” He murmured against his ear. Newt closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Newt could feel Thomas brush his teeth against his ear. Newt gathered every scrap of strength he had and shoved Thomas, moving him off just enough for him to slip out from between Thomas and the wall. 

 

Thomas stood there a minute, his hands still against the wall, then he started to laugh. The sound filled Newt’s head until it was all he could hear as he struggled to get away. 

 

“Aw, come on Newt we were just getting to the good part, don't you wanna know what Thomas wants? What he's been holding onto this whole time, well other than me of course.” Newt’s head was spinning. 

 

“Leave me alone,” he said, hoping his words came out half as strong as he meant them to. 

 

“That's not very nice,” Thomas said right in front of him. Newt jumped backward but Thomas caught him with a hand on his face. It was a gentle touch, something that almost scared Newt more than being thrown across the room. “You’re a determined one aren't you? You know there's no way out, where are you trying to go?” Newt didn't say anything. He didn't know if there was anything to say. “You think if you keep trying someone will save you, is that it? Look around you Newt, look at what happened to him.” Thomas turned Newt’s face in Jansons’ direction with a single finger on his chin. Newt resisted the urge to close his eyes. “Nobody's going to save you.” Newt could feel Thomas's breath against his cheek. Newt’s stomach churned and he wasn't sure if it was because of the sight in front of him or the concussion he surely had. 

 

Thomas was circling Newt now and it reminded him of sharks circling their prey. Newt’s knees were weak under him. He only stayed standing upright from sheer determination. Determination not to let this  _ thing _ see him break. “Nobody's coming for you,” Thomas said again stopping in his circle right in front of Newt. Thomas reached out a hand and it took everything in Newt not to flinch. He was expecting another hit but instead, Thomas was brushing his hand up Newt’s arm. 

 

“Tommy.” Newt wanted the name to come out solid and commanding but instead, he had to bite his lip to keep it from sounding more like a whimper. “Tommy please,” he begged. 

 

“Tommy please,” Thomas repeated, high pitched like he was mocking him, then he was punching him. His ears were ringing and he could feel himself falling, unable to hold his own weight anymore. His head hit the floor the hardest. When he managed to look up, Thomas was standing over him. 

 

“You’re pathetic. That's what Thomas thought of you. Pathetic and a burden. How many times did he have to save you?” Newt rolled over and started pulling himself away, trying to block out the words. “How many times did he put himself at risk for you?” Newt felt Thomas grab his ankle and pull him backward. 

 

“Why don't you understand there's nowhere to go?” Newt started crawling again. He didn't need to get away. That wasn't the point, that wasn't the goal. He got farther this time before Thomas stepped in front of him. Newt looked up in time to see the bottom of Thomas’s foot colliding with his face, painting Newts world black. 

  
  


When Newt finally opened his eyes again he  _ did not _ look at what was left of Janson. He  _ did not _ look at the open eyes, inches in front of his face. He  _ did not _ think about how it looked like Janson was staring at him. He  _ did not _ think about what Thomas, or the thing that looked like Thomas, must have done to get a man to look like that with just his hands. He  _ did not _ think about what Janson did to Thomas first. He  _ did not _ think about the scars decorating Thomas’s chest and stomach. He  _ did not _ think about what Thomas was doing now. 

 

He could hear it, the noises that sounded sickening, or maybe he just felt sick. The blood that pooled in front of his eyes was fresh, meaning it wasn't Janson’s, meaning it was  _ his _ . Newt heard voices and he wanted to block them all out. He wanted to not think about them or what they could mean. He didn't want any of it. 

 

Newt  _ did  _ think about Thomas. Not the thing taking over Thomas, but  _ Thomas, _ he thought about all the things that Thomas did for him and the rest of the gladers and how fearless he had always looked doing them. Newt  _ did  _ think about  _ Thomas _ . He remembered how strong Thomas had been at the Right Arm’s camp. How he came back for them all. How he stood there with a bomb in his hand ready to kill everyone before letting them get taken by WICKED, a fate worse than death, they thought at the time. 

 

Newts bag was tangled around him. His bag that held the bomb he was supposed to plant in this room. The part of the plan Gally and Newt had hidden from The Sheriff, the reason The Sheriff couldn't come. A lump rose in Newt’s throat because maybe, just maybe, this version of Thomas was a fate worse than death. and maybe Newt couldn't save him.

 

Newt couldn't see what was going on behind him but he  _ could _ see the gun, lying forgotten in front of him. He reached for it slowly, determined not to let it be known that he was awake. He felt the cold metal against his fingertips, and closed his hand around it, pushing himself up. He turned on unsteady legs and wobbly knees but he stayed standing. They weren't alone in the room anymore. The first thing Newt saw was Minho, leaned against the wall like it was the only thing holding him upright, only a few feet away from him. Minho wasn't looking at him though. 

 

Newt looked at Thomas who was leaning over Gally, holding him up by his shirt. Newt couldn't tell if he was talking. But he could see blood on Gally’s face.

 

“Minho are you alright?” Newt whispered, getting the boy’s attention. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only attention he captured. 

 

“Well, look who’s awake,” Thomas announced, dropping Gally to the floor and turning to look at him. Newt ignored him and slid an arm around Minho, supporting his weight pulling him up and moving him backward. 

 

“Minho?” Newt asked again, not bothering to whisper as Thomas’s attention was already on them. 

 

“I’m fine,” Minho mumbled, but he didn't look fine. In fact, he looked the opposite of fine. Newt positioned himself to be between him and Thomas as Thomas got closer. 

 

“Leave us alone,” Newt said, trying to sound hard, but with the combination of Minho's weight and the room spinning around him he could hardly get the words out. 

 

“Aw, you’re cute,” Thomas said as he lurched forward to grab Minho's arm and pulled him away from Newt who stumbled backward at the loss of weight and landing on his ankle. Minho slide half across the room. Thomas turned away from Newt and started back to Minho. 

 

Newt sat there watching the scene play out in front of him like a movie. The reality of the situation was lost on Newt in the moment. His vision spun and darkened around the room. Thomas wasn't Thomas. Whatever Thomas was, it was dark and sinister and wrong and Newt didn't know what to do. He looked at Gally laid out on the floor, his face bloodied. He looked at Minho who was trying so hard to get up but whatever WICKED had done to him, put him in a worse state than Newt. And he looked at Thomas, only it wasn't Thomas and he was right over Minho, and there Newt realized that maybe Thomas really was lost.

 

Newt had lost Thomas so many times before but this was probably the worst way because Newt didn't know how to save him. There had always been a plan before but now Newt had nothing to go off of. Maybe this time he couldn't save Thomas. But he knew he could save Minho. Newt felt like he was dying as he stared at the gun, his hands were shaky and sticky and his knees buckled under him when he tried to stand. To Newt, it felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out. He took a step forward at the same time Thomas started to hit Minho. 

 

Newt pointed the gun at Thomas and cocked it, the small click was enough to pull Thomas’s attention away from Minho. 

 

“Oh, now we're getting somewhere, are you going to shoot me?” Thomas was laughing that sick laugh again but Newt couldn't see him clearly, his vision was blurred and Thomas looked like he was under water. 

 

“Go on, shoot me.” Newts hands were still, the gun heavy in them, weighing them down. Thomas dropped Minho onto the floor. “Shoot me.” Thomas was walking towards him with a smile playing on his lips. 

 

Newt remembered Thomas from the first day he met him. Short hair and wide eyes, he was curious and thought so much about  _ everything _ , but he was also so caring it hurt Newt’s heart, even then. Newt had been with WICKED for years before Thomas, he had seen the good and the bad of what WICKED did, he saw it happen with his best friend Teresa. The sweet girl who showed up a week after losing her mom. She always had the biggest heart before WICKED poisoned her mind with ‘WICKED is good’ and he would see the same thing happen with Thomas. He hadn't known him long before he was sent into the maze, but he knew he felt something when it came to Thomas that he’d never felt before. Of course, after waking up in the box he hadn't known any of this with his memory wiped but all of those feelings came back the moment he saw Thomas enter the glade. 

 

“What are you waiting for Newt?” Newt’s eyes fell closed but his grip tightened on the gun.

 

Newt remembered Thomas in the Maze, determined and ready to die for the boys he’d met such a short time earlier. He also remembered how attached he was to Teresa and even if Newt hadn’t remembered the years before the maze, at the time he knew he didn't trust her. 

 

Newt opened his eyes to see Thomas getting closer. Thomas, but not Thomas. 

 

Newt remembered Thomas in the Scorch, scared for everyone but himself. He remembered how devastated he was when Newt gave Winston the gun. He remembered how the first thing he did when he heard the gunshot was look at Newt. he remembered Thomas trying to save everyone's life. 

 

“Shoot me!” Thomas was right in front of him now. He could smell the blood on his skin, or maybe he was smelling his own blood? Regardless the scent was sharp and nauseating. 

 

Newt remembered Thomas in the hospital in Beacon Hills, Newt sat by his bed until he woke up. He remembered going through Thomas’s pockets and finding the note he'd forced him to take while he was trying to fight the flare, again. He remembered tearing it up and throwing it away cause now Newt could tell him himself, only Newt didn't get a chance.  

 

“Shoot me, or I'll kill them.” Thomas's head pressed against the gun and Newt’s hands were still. Newt was still. Thomas was smiling, Gally was passed out, Minho couldn't stand, and Newt’s had a gun pressed against Thomas's head. 

 

Newt remembered every time he fell in love with Thomas. He remembered every time he lost him and every time he found him again. And here he was, about take Thomas away from himself. Losing Thomas again, and Newt thought maybe that's all they knew how to do, lose each other, find each other, lose each other again.

 

“Your choice Newt, kill me and save your friends.” Thomas's eyes were wild, dancing, drinking in Newt’s pain, Gally’s pain, Minho’s. Like he needed it to survive. 

 

Newt would always find him, he thought, he would always find him. Even now, even this time, with a gun between them and only one possible outcome. 

 

“KILL ME!” the shout forced Newt’s attention on Thomas, and then suddenly Thomas’s eyes cleared and softened and Newt  _ saw _ Thomas, trembling in front of him. Newt started to drop the gun, but Thomas caught his hand and held the gun against his own head. “Please Newt,” his voice cracked, “please.” 

 

“I love you” and Newt wasn’t sure if he choked out the words or if it was even Thomas, and this was not how he wanted to hear them.  _ This  _ is not how he wanted to say them. 

 

Newt could feel his heart falling into something black and deep, the small amount of relief he had felt when Thomas’s eyes cleared, fell between his fingers. Thomas looked at him pleadingly and Newt closed his eyes against it, his hand tightening around the gun. He would find Thomas again, he always did. The muscles in his hand began to tense as his finger hovered closer to the trigger

 

“Newt, no!” Newt opened his eyes and he could see the emotion filter out of Thomas’s eyes, replaced with something dark and broken and dancing. Newt only barely had time to look for who told him to stop before the thing wearing Thomas's face shoved the gun out of his hand and knocked him to the floor, Newt didn't think he could take many more hits to his head. He only just made out Derek standing in the doorway. 

 

Newt watched Thomas turn to look at Derek. Newt wanted to call out, to warn him, but he wasn't sure who it was he wanted to warn. The room spun around him, pitching him forward when he tried to stand. 

 

“What do you think you’re doing here, pup?” Thomas’s voice ripped through the room, it was cold and vicious.

 

“I'm here for Stiles,” Newt could see that Thomas’s attention had been pulled away from him so he started to painfully drag himself over to where Minho was trying to sit up.

 

“Stiles,” Thomas chuckled. “Stiles has been gone for a long time.” 

 

“Are you okay?” Newt asked as quietly as he could, worried his voice could be enough to remind Thomas they were there.  

 

“I'm here to get him back.” Derek’s voice bounced off the walls around them, Newt was thankful Derek was being so unusually loud.

 

“What the shuck is going on here Newt?” Minho asked, leaning against the wall. 

 

“Honestly I'm not even sure myself.” It wasn't all a lie, anyway. 

 

“You’re not getting anyone back. You’re out of moves, you’re out of a pack. you’re out of a boyfriend. You’re just out of luck aren't you?” Newt’s hands were shaking, listening to Thomas and Derek. 

 

“I'm not nearly as out of moves as you think.” Derek almost sounded sad, not that Newt really knew enough about Derek to make an observation like that. But from what he did know, he sounded sad. Newt looked past Derek to see the door was propped open. 

 

“Alright Minho, we've gotta get you out of here,” Newt said shakily, still listening to the conversation going on behind him. 

 

“Oh yeah? And what could you possibly have left?” 

 

“Have you heard of a divine move?” Derek asked, facing off with Thomas. It took everything in Newt to stay standing, and support most of Minho's weight. They edged around the room, around Thomas and Derek. It took everything for him not to fall over. It took everything to keep moving. To get Minho out. 

 

“Divine move?” he asked with that echoing laugh. “Divine move? Do you think you have any more moves left?” he got Minho all the way to the same wall as the door before Thomas had realized they'd moved. 

 

“I think I have a few,” Derek answered before lunging at Thomas. Newt used the moment Thomas was distracted and shoved Minho to the door just in time for Thomas to land against the wall in front of him. Newt watched Minho disappear behind the door and he hoped he would get out. Then he turned to watch Thomas and Derek. 

 

In the past six months Newt learned werewolves existed, he’d even become friends with a few. But he'd never really seen them turn. Derek's face was scrunched up around his nose and hair sprouted around his face. He opened his mouth to reveal long sharp teeth and his nails sprouted like claws. Thomas ran back at Derek and Newt wanted to scream. And maybe he did, he couldn't really tell, the ringing in his ears had grown so loud, so loud he wondered if anyone else could hear it. 

 

Thomas knocked Derek down easily, actually he  _ threw _ Derek across the room, but Derek stood back up and growled. Newt couldn't have said how long the fight lasted, he lost count of how many times Derek was thrown across the room or how many times Derek's claws caught Thomas. Newt wanted to get back to Gally, he wanted to wake him up and drag him out of the room if he had to. But the room spun almost upside down and Newt couldn't take his eyes off of the two fighting. The room shifted again, pitching Newt backward into the wall, which he then slid down until he was sitting but the room kept turning and Newt was having trouble breathing and his head ached in the worst way. Newt reached up to touch an aching spot on his head and his hand came back sticky with half-dried blood. 

 

“Derek wait!” a new voice shouted and Derek froze. It couldn't have been more than a second, at first Newt thought he was imagining it because then he was attacking Thomas again. Newt tried to look for who had shouted but his eyes were glued to Derek and Thomas.

 

Someone was next to him now, practically holding him up. Derek had lunged at Thomas, harder this time, so much harder.

 

This time Derek managed to sink his teeth into Thomas’s arm and everything around Newt erupted. Someone was shouting at Derek and he could hear whoever was holding him curse under her breath He was only barely aware of what was being said because Thomas was screaming and all he could see was Thomas falling. And Newt was yanking away from whoever held him and he was almost on his feet and he was trying to get to Thomas.  And there was so much yelling and Newt was falling beside Thomas. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to hold him. But Derek had grabbed him across his chest and pulled him away and all he could see was  _ Thomas  _ writhing on the floor.

 

Derek held him there until Thomas stilled. 

 

When Derek finally let him go Newt fell forward, crawling to Thomas. 

 

“What did you do?!” Newt looked up to see Scott standing over them yelling. 

 

“I did what I had to do,” Derek answered and Newt wanted to tell them all to stop. 

 

“Stiles never wanted this!”  _ Stiles? Stiles never wanted what?  _

 

“I don't care, he’s alive!” with shaky hands Newt pulled Thomas closer to him, feeling anywhere for a pulse. Maybe if he had been more in his right mind he would have known why everyone was so angry around him. 

 

“He's going to hate you for this!” 

 

“Do you really think I care if he  _ hates _ me? I'll gladly take his hate if it means he's alive, and besides, it's not like he remembers me anyway.”

 

“Are you okay?” Newt looked over to see Lydia kneeling beside him. He couldn't remember why he was so relieved to see her. Only that if he hadn't had his hands full of Thomas he would have hugged her. He nodded slowly to answer her question. If he moved his head to fast the room would start spinning around him again. 

 

“But what kind of life is he going to have?!” 

 

“One where he's still breathing!” Derek shouted. 

 

“Please stop yelling,” Newt said, rocking back and forth with Thomas half in his lap. Lydia stayed beside him, not saying anything. 

 

“We could have found another way! We could have done this differently!” Scott argued. 

 

“Yeah? And how were you going to get him back to Beacon Hills? And how many people would have died first?” Newt finally could feel Thomas's pulse weakly against his fingers and Newt let out a small sigh of relief. But then he saw Gally, and he looked  _ lifeless. _ Newt looked back down at Thomas to see that he was breathing.

 

“Take him?” Newt said looking at Lydia who only nodded and slid under Thomas so Newt could move. He half crawled over to Gally, feeling for a pulse much like he did for Thomas.

 

“Look, Scott, if he hates it that much, there is a cure. He’ll just have to kill the alpha that turned him.” Scott grew silent. Before Newt could even find a pulse Gally started to cough. 

 

“What happened?” He asked though Newt wasn’t sure if Gally was even seeing straight.

 

“I'm not even sure of most of it,” Newt answered. “Did you go through with the rest of the plan?” Newt asked. Gally sucked in a breath and his eyes began to dart around the room.

 

“Bloody hell Gally,” Newt said Scott and Derek were still shouting at each other. Newt tried to stand but quickly realized that wasn't an option when his bad leg gave out under him. 

 

“What is it?” Scott asked, and Newt didn't remember when he and Derek stopped yelling, but now they were both staring at him and Scott looked worried and Derek and Lydia looked confused and Newt felt like he was about to be sick. 

 

“This place is about to go up in flames.” Gally stuttered, trying to sit up on his own. Newt helped him which was hard since he was barely able to keep his own balance steady.

 

Derek stared at him confused, and Scott's eyes widened, obviously remembering the rest of the plan. 

 

“He's right we need to go, now.” Scott said “Grab Thomas.” and Derek obeyed easily and Scott helped him and Gally up before running out the door to help Minho. Lydia followed after him and then Derek and Thomas. Newt reached into his bag and set the timer on his own explosive. He then grabbed the journal out of his bag and held it against his chest, then dropped the bag and left it there in the middle of the room. 

 

“Wait,” Newt said grabbing Gally’s arm. “What about your friend? The one who turned off the cameras, where is he?” 

 

“She’s dead. Let’s go.” 

 

Gally looked forward with a blank stare, and Newt didn’t know what to say to that. After today even something as simple as ‘I’m sorry’ seemed inadequate they had to help each other walk but they should have enough time to at least make it out of the building. They left the room in time to see Scott, Derek, and Lydia disappearing around the corner. 

 

“You boys aren't going anywhere,” Newt and Gally froze. “I told Thomas if I couldn't have him, then I’d take you.” Newt turned around slowly to see Teresa, standing behind him pointing a gun at his head. 

 

“Teresa, we have to go,” Newt started, remembering the girl she used to be. 

 

“Go where? The world is broken and corrupt! We were supposed to save it! There is nowhere left to go!” 

 

“That's not true, there's a world out there and I know you've seen it.” he held his hands out in front of him and tried to take a step forward, sending the hallway spinning around him. He ignored it. 

 

“That's not the world Newt, it's a trick,” Newt looked at this girl and remembered everything she went through and he felt so damn bad for her. 

 

“You can come with us.” He said, suddenly taking another step and choking back nausea. “You can walk out that door with us and start over, clean slate.” She shook her head, 

 

“Have you ever actually tried to clean a slate, Newt? You can always see what was there before. No, we’re staying right here.” 

 

“Teresa you don't understand, there isn't going to be a  _ here _ in about four minutes. We’re leaving and you can come with us, we'll figure something out we'll make it work. But only if you lower the gun and follow us right now.” She was shaking her head, and there was still a gun pointed at him and Gally ran at her, catching her by surprise, she pulled the trigger once, twice, three times and Gally grabbed her around the waist, knocking the gun away. 

 

“Newt go!” Newt hesitated, he could see gally bleeding from at least one hole in his abdomen. 

 

“But what about you?” He asked, shakily unable to look away from all the blood.

 

“Forget me, I died a long time ago. Remember? I belong to the maze. Now get your ass out, hurry.” Newt reluctantly turned and ran through the mess of hallways that were spinning all around him until he could see where Scott and Derek were disappearing through the exit. He tried to take a step forward when suddenly another gunshot went off. He didn't need to look behind him to see Teresa standing there, to know it was her. 

  
Newt saw Lydia turn around with wide eyes and he mouthed at her to  **_go_ ** before he hit the ground hard, and the hall stopped spinning. His vision darkened until all he could see was the blood that dripped between his fingers. He could  _ hear _ it landing on the floor. The floor that was shaking under him. 


	6. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherever Thomas was, it was bright.  
> Not in an uncomfortable way like the sharp blinding fluorescence of the white room he was relatively used to.  
> This was a soft brightness,  
> like the moments right before the sun would rise in the glade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I'm so sorry this took so long. 
> 
> if you are still following this series I am very very grateful. 
> 
> if you lost patience with me by now I don't blame you. 
> 
> it has been a tough time and this just had to take a back burner for awhile. 
> 
> please if you like this leave a comment it really does mean a lot.

Wherever Thomas was, it was bright. Not in an uncomfortable way like the sharp blinding fluorescence of the white room he was relatively used to. This was a soft brightness, like the moments right before the sun would rise in the glade. He took a breath and then realized he _could_ breathe.

 

Thomas could _breathe_ again. And he felt _different_ and _better_ and _whole_.

 

He opened his eyes slowly, waiting for the illusion to end, waiting to be greeted by the black void and the voice that was his but wasn't his. He waited for the door open, and for Jason to come waltzing in with his smug smile and his knives. He waited for the golden light to disappear and the white walls to come back into focus, and the sharp irony smell of blood to sting his nose.

 

But the walls didn't come into focus, and the void didn’t swallow him whole, and there was no Janson and no vision of himself sneering at him. It was just hazy sky and skinny tree trunks, and grass that tickled the places where it touched his skin and the air smelled sweet. It all felt so real. He pushed himself into a sitting position and felt the grass under his palm.

 

Wherever Thomas was, it was beautiful.

 

He took a better look around and saw he was in a clearing, tall trees formed an almost perfect circle around him. Everything had a sort of haze to it, it wasn’t thick like fog, just like he was looking at everything through a sort of vapor and it all held a slightly gold tint, the grass, the trees, the sky, even the air.

 

A breeze blew through the clearing, making the grass dance around it. Thomas could _see_ the wind blow past him, he followed its path and was surprised to see Scott standing behind him, holding a stick with some sort of net attached to it. Thomas jumped to his feet.

 

“Scott? Hey, where are we man?” He asked, but Scott wasn't even looking at him, he was looking at something past him. Thomas followed his gaze and saw himself standing a few yards away. Only somewhere in his head Thomas knew it wasn't exactly _him_ he saw.

 

“I’m right back where I started,” Scott said behind him and Thomas could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. There was something off with how this other him looked.

 

“Dude, you still got me!” Thomas’s watched the vision of him say. But it didn't exactly sound like Thomas, it was different, off. It wasn't the same broken, hollow version of his voice that haunted the dark shadows of his mind. It was full and happy and light. And not Thomas's voice.

 

“Yeah, I had you before,” Scott said behind him still and Thomas could hear the smile in his words. And Thomas didn't feel like Scott was talking about him. Not this him. Perhaps a different version of himself, a version before WICKED. _Stiles_

 

“Yeah, and you've _still_ got me” Thomas stared at Stiles and he felt almost sad. This was not him, not anymore. And whether this was a memory or a dream, Thomas knew he wouldn't get that person back. And while that left a bitter taste in his mouth he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to go back to that person. After all, he was somebody. He’s Thomas. He had his memories wiped and he was sent to the Glade. He solved the Maze. He survived the Scorch. He escaped WICKED _again_ , and he got caught _again_. But everything he did was to protect the people he cared about, Minho, and Newt. The ones that survived WICKED. This was him now.

 

The image started to evaporate. He disappeared, leaving behind golden dust that swirled in the air.

 

The sky darkened slightly, turning into a dusty gray and the trees closest to him shimmered out of view, replaced with slightly transparent buildings. If he looked close enough he could just barely make out the trees in the distance. The grass beneath his feet flattened and turned to asphalt and he could smell gasoline.

 

“Scott?” a girl appeared, walking in his direction. He knew he didn't know this girl but a name jumped to his lips.

 

“Allison?” he whispered, turning to watch her pass him.

 

“There's no hope.” The voice cracked and Thomas felt a sharp pain in his chest with it. This voice didn't belong to Allison. He turned the rest of the way around and saw a soaking wet Scott standing in the middle of a large puddle that could only be the source of the smell that still stung sharp in his nose. And he was holding a lit flare. A lit flare in his gas-soaked hand, in a puddle of the flammable liquid and Thomas, wanted to scream at someone to do something.

 

“There's always hope.” Allison was saying, but Thomas couldn't take his eyes off of Scott, who he’d seen just moments before, smiling and happy. He was vaguely aware of Scott and Allison saying more but his eyes were fixed on the flare and the way Scott's grip just kept getting looser. It felt almost like the world around Thomas had frozen and the only thing he could hear was the flare burning. He didn't know what to do.

 

Around him people had stopped talking, they were all looking at him. He wanted to scream at them all to do something. To stop him. To save him. But they all just kept looking at him. The flare slipped an inch in Scott's hand. Thomas jumped forward holding his hands out like he could stop this from happening.

 

“Scott just listen to me okay?” He didn't know what he would say, what he could say. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharp through his nose. Words came to his mind immediately and he looked at Scott again. “You're not nobody. Okay? You’re..” Thomas’s hands were still stretched forward, and he took another step closer. “Scott you're my best friend.” The words ached and he could feel the truth behind them. Scott _was_ his best friend, before WICKED. That much was obvious, but could he get that again? “Okay? And I need you, buddy.” Thomas's voice broke and he felt hollow. Scott was looking at him with tear-filled eyes and Thomas thought maybe they could be best friends again, maybe he could get to know him, and it would never be the same but it would be _something_ because even in the short time he remembered knowing Scott he felt close to him. “Scott you're my brother.” The flare slipping in Scott’s hand again and Thomas surged forward, stepping into the gas. “So if you’re going to do this,” he reached for the flare, slowly Scott's eyes widened. Thomas took a hold of the bottom of the flare. “well then you’re just going to have to take me with you, okay?” Thomas used his other hand to peel Scott’s off the flare and as soon as Scott let go he threw it behind him. Thomas let out a small breath of relief and Scott’s knees buckled. Thomas caught him and wrapped his arms around his friend's shoulders.

 

“No!” a girl shrieked and something knocked him to the ground. He couldn't see anything but he could feel grass under his hands again. He looked up and everyone was gone. He was laying at the edge of the clearing and the air smelled sweet again. He pushed himself to his feet and he could see deep into the woods and he had a sudden urge to run.

 

So Thomas ran. He ran into the woods, dogging around the trees easily. Golden dust swirled in the air and formed shapes and people but he kept running past them. Past a woman shrieking the words ‘He's trying to kill me’ in his face. Past Chuck bleeding out on the ground. He ran past Scott and Malia and Gally. He ran as hard and fast as he could until an image appeared in front of him. A picture of himself, his shirt ripped and blood seeping through. Thomas ran past the image. Tried to outrun it but it appeared in front of him again with blood on his hands and his eyes rimmed in black circles and chapped lips. Thomas ran faster.

 

“What the hell is a Stiles?” “WICKED is good Thomas” “Stiles!” “Things are going to get bad for you” the voices swirled around him and filled his ears and still he ran until his legs tangled under him and he fell to the ground hard, scraping the side of his face and filling his mouth with the taste of blood.

 

“Son?” Thomas looked up to see The Sheriff there looking down at him. No, not the Sheriff, his _dad_  his dad was standing there looking down at him with concern in his eyes. He reached down and Thomas took his hand hesitantly and he felt himself being pulled up. As soon as he was on his feet the scene around him shifted, he was standing in his room and his dad was grabbing his face, and his face _hurt_.

 

“Who did this?” His dad asked harshly, and Thomas winced. “You tell me who did this, I want names, I want descriptions!” He was angry, Thomas could _feel_ his anger.

 

“Look dad it's not even that bad.” he found himself saying, the words coming out slurred and soft.

 

“I’m calling the school, I'm going to personally go down there and pistol whip those little bastards!”  Thomas felt a lump in his throat and he wanted him to just stop yelling and trust that everything was okay, that he was okay, even though everything in him was screaming that he was not okay.

 

“Dad!” he yelled to get his dads attention. “Dad I said it was okay! Just, It's okay. I’m okay.” his voice broke and he started to cry. The Sheriff looked at him for a moment before pulling him into his chest and for a second Thomas could smell laundry detergent and coffee and whiskey and it was his _dad_.

 

And then he was left standing alone, surrounded by trees again. He leaned against the closest tree and wiped a hand over his face and just breathed for a minute.

 

It was hot. He could feel it beating down on the back of his neck. The ground shifted slightly under him like sand he looked around at fading trees giving way to miles of sand and dust and bits of falling apart buildings. He was leaned against a large piece of concrete.

 

And Winston was at his feet, coughing up black goo. And he was reaching for the gun in Frypan’s hand. Thomas tried to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat, but his mouth was dry.

 

He watched silently as one by one the Gladers walked away. And Newt was taking the gun from Fry and he was handing it to Winston, and Fry was crying and Newt laid the gun on Winston’s chest and it was exactly like Thomas remembered it up until Newt stood up and looked at him. Everything around them slowed down and Newt was just looking at him and his eyes were glossy and begging. Thomas took a step forward, Newt’s eyes were screaming at him. And Thomas wanted to say something, say anything to Newt but when Thomas opened his mouth to say something, anything, Newt turned away.

 

“Newt.” The name caught in his throat and he tried to follow him, to reach out to him, to tell him he understood, even if he wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to understand. But Thomas's feet wouldn't move, and his voice didn’t work, and he watched Newt walk away, shimmering in the heat waves coming off the sand.

 

The gunshot went off and Thomas choked on a sob. The noise rang in Thomas’s ears, and he could move again but he didn't have anywhere to move to because Newt was gone, and the Scorch was gone, and Winston's body was fading into golden grass.

 

And golden grass turned into tile floors, Thomas felt anger as he stared at Janson in front of him. He knew without looking that Newt would be to his right and Minho and Fry to his left. He knew where he was and he knew what Janson was about to say. The first name on the list. The first person he would tell them isn't immune. The person they were sentencing to death.

 

“Newt.” Thomas was expecting the sudden pain that sent shockwaves through him as he doubled over. And it was just as bad as the last time, and his mind clouded with thoughts of Newt. Newt waking him up in the Glade, Newt pulling him away from Chuck's body, Newt. Newt who was going to die, _Newt_.

 

_Newt_ isn’t immune? _Newt_ was infected? _Newt_ dead? The thoughts ran through his head as fast and sudden and horrible as the first time. He was aware of Newt saying something about life not being all that great anyway, but Thomas knew. He knew Newt was just putting on a brave face cause wasn't that what Newt did? Wasn't that his whole job?

 

Thomas tried to breathe and look up at Newt but the scene evaporated leaving Thomas dizzy.

 

Thomas collapsed into the grass. He didn't move, just laid there and willed his head to stop spinning, willed the world to stop changing. Willed the voices to stop spinning around him. He could hear Gally calling him a Shank, he could Hear Minho teaching him the rules of the maze. He could hear other voices too. And he could see things in his head, images of people he didn't know, scenes he couldn't remember, like a girl in a skimpy nightdress falling asleep in his lap. He could see his jeep and he could hear someone threatening to rip his throat out and he needed it all to just stop.

 

Thomas didn't realize he was screaming until the air around him silenced and stilled and darkened.

 

And darkened. And he stopped screaming.

 

And Thomas could feel the difference in the space around him. He could feel it in his bones and lungs and in the places around him that the darkness folded. He couldn't see. The gentle gold was gone. The trees were gone. Everything was gone.

 

“They can’t kill me.” Thomas heard the familiar broken voice wheezed somewhere above him. “I'm a thousand. Years. Old. They can’t. Kill me.” The words came out around gasps and when Thomas sat up he could see himself. Not _himself_ and not _Stiles_ , the thing with dark eyes and chapped lips. “I. Can’t. Be. Killed.” it coughed.

 

“Who are you?” Thomas asked in a whispered voice that even sounded too loud.

 

“I. Saved. You.” The thing growled looking at him and clutching his side. Images flashed in Thomas’s mind. A white room splattered in red, strangled cries. Too much blood.

 

“You killed Janson,” Thomas said slowly, wincing, remembering his bloodied hands. Thomas looked down at his hands, red and clutched in someone's shirt, he looked up and Newt was in front of him. _Newt?_ Thomas blinked the memories away a new fear coiling in his stomach. “You were going to kill Newt.” only Thomas didn't remember anything after that.

 

“You don’t need him!” The thing shouted, filling the space around them, the words ending in gurgled coughs.

 

Thomas stood on shaky legs and willed his feet to move. Because somewhere Newt was out there, and maybe Thomas could find him.

 

“Where. Are. You. Going.” it gasped at Thomas. With his words, the space around them lightened.

 

Panic rose in Thomas as he glanced around the area, looking for a sign of something, of anything. But everything was still so dark. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash of the gold tint from earlier, only not really the same. It was a different kind of gold, not like the haze that covered the forest. This was a more yellow gold. It was bright and blinding and when he turned his head to look it was almost debilitating. “Newt?” He didn’t know why the name jumped to his lips but as soon as he’d said it the flash was gone.

 

“Thomas?” There was no mistaking the voice. It wasn't like the voices in the forest. It was Newt. it was really Newt. He sounded so _concerned_.

 

“You. let me in!’ it screamed at Thomas, but he was running to Newt. “You left the door open! Invited me in! I saved you!” Thomas ignored it and kept running.

 

“Tommy” Thomas ran faster and as he heard his voice the area in front of him flashed gold again.

 

The thing screamed. The sound was guttural and painful and so loud, Thomas covered his ears but he could still hear it, he could still feel it shaking the ground under him. It drowned out Newt’s voice

 

The scream was cut off suddenly, with no warning and a light snapped on behind him. Thomas turned and shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness. A few feet away from that light another snapped on, and then another and another. They looked like stadium lighting, forming a circle focusing on him. He dropped his hand from his face and he could see the void, the circle of lights holding it at bay and _it_ was there, staring at him, It’s arm, outstretched to Thomas and its mouth was leaking something thick and black as its teeth. It stumbled in Thomas’s direction and he watched it fall and he _felt_ it. He could _feel_ it like they were the same entity. And then suddenly he couldn't. Thomas stood there and for a moment he couldn't feel _anything._

 

He looked up and he could see grass under his feet and something big in the circle with him. He took a shaky step towards it and saw it was the biggest tree trunk he'd ever seen, roots reaching out and tangling with each other at its base and then Thomas could feel _everything_ , an onslaught of emotions that ranged from an overwhelming relief, to fear like he'd never felt before

 

“This is just a dream,” he whispered, and his heart slammed into his chest

 

“This is just a dream!” he said louder, “Wake up!”

 

“Wake up, Thomas”  

 

“Wake up!” he screamed, squeezing his eyes closed and falling backward.

 

He felt fingers in his hair. That was the first thing he was aware of. Long fingers that tangled in his hair. The light behind his closed lids shifted to something softer. Voices swirled around him, hushed whispered conversation. He felt safe and whole, and he could breathe again, and there were fingers threading through his hair and people talking around him. Thomas took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

 


	7. be okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something in Newt that ached.   
> not like burnt flesh and gunshot wounds.  
> he ached for something somewhere someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter* so yeah so it has been a little while.. heh heh uh well I did this thing. so there's that... I guess. its something. right? 
> 
> anyways only one more chapter to go. i hope you like this please please please let me know what you think. <3

There was something in Newt that  _ ached _ . Not like burnt flesh and gunshot wounds. He ached  _ for _ something somewhere someone. He ached for a home. For the glade. For Tommy and Minho and Fry. And he knew, as he often did. He knew before he even opened his eyes. He could  _ feel _ that there was something somewhere wrong. 

 

There was _ always _ something wrong. 

 

Newt came to agonizingly slow like each part of his body had to reboot. It felt like pins and needles like the circulation was cut off from his whole body. Fear told him he was back in WICKED, that if he opened his eyes he would find ropes tied to his ankles and wrists. Logic told him he was in the hospital, that he was safe.

 

It felt like an empty promise. Like a lie, he was telling himself. Because when had the world ever allowed him to be safe? Never. 

His toes curled and his fingers clenched into fists under the thin sheets. Newt opened his eyes and his vision blurred in the bright light. like a switch was flipped he could feel the hole in his side as clearly as he did when he was shot. When  _ Teresa _ shot him and the ground shook beneath him. He groaned with the surprise of it and closed his eyes again trying to remain as still as possible, willing the pain to freeze with the rest of his body and knowing it wouldn't work. 

 

When Newt could catch his breath again he opened his eyes. The pain had settled into a dull throb and the room was  _ dark _ . He stared up at the gray ceiling trying to remember the events that led him here. 

 

“You going to stay awake this time?” a voice greeted him from the foot of his bed. Newt jumped sending stabs of pain into his side, He sucked in a breath between his teeth but was surprised at how mild the pain seemed compared to the last time. He looked at who had spoken and was surprised to see Derek standing there. In the dark, it was hard to make out his expression but Newt was willing to bet he was glaring. 

 

“What do you mean?” he tried to say, but his voice raked up his throat and stuck there causing him to sound choked. 

 

“You woke up two days ago for about a minute and then passed back out.” Newt shook his head. Two days. Two days? He had only opened his eyes for the first time a few minutes ago. Hadn't he? Newts head hurt. He let his eyes fall closed again and for a moment he thought he'd heard Derek say something but his voice was muffled and then it was gone. 

 

And he was  _ alone. _

 

Because he was almost always alone when he woke up in hospital rooms. 

 

Because Thomas wasn't there. 

 

_ Thomas. _

 

Newt sat up faster then what was probably healthy and felt for where the tubes were attached to the crook in his arm. He pulled them out gently and started to ease himself out of bed. His heart was racing in his chest and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He stumbled through the doorway and started limping through the almost empty hallway. 

 

“May I help you sir?” a nurse asked him. Instinct told him to get as far away from her as possible, as far away from any adult as possible but something in the way her soft features were so filled with concern made him stop. Taking a better look at her she couldn’t have been that much older than him. 

 

“Uh I’m looking for my friend,” he said finally. She smiled at him and led him towards an empty chair. 

 

“The boy you were brought in with?” She asked pleasantly.

 

“Yeah, yes, yes. Where is he?” He asked Jumping out of the chair in nervous excitement. 

 

“He's just two doors down from you,” She said pointing back in the direction Newt had come from.

 

“Thank you” He called over his shoulder, Already on his feet heading in the direction she had pointed out. The ache in his side became more apparent the faster Newt walked, but he never slowed. As soon as Newt found the right door he pushed it open and froze. 

 

Newt’s mouth went dry as he stared at the boy fast asleep in the hospital bed and it wasn't Thomas. Newt took a few hesitant steps forward and he knew his hands were shaking. Because how could he have forgotten this? He remembered of course that they had found Minho. What he hadn’t remembered was the state he was in when Newt got to him. He looked better now, cleaned up and peaceful in sleep. It put Newt at ease, at least a little bit. He was still worried about Thomas, he needed answers, holes in his memory needed to be filled in but Newt couldn't go anywhere.

 

Newt fell into the chair next to Minho's bed and waited. 

 

He wasn't there for a full hour before he could feel eyes on him. 

 

“What are you-” Derek started but Newt didn't let him finish. 

 

“He’s okay?” Newt asked without taking his eyes off of the steady rise and fall of Minho's chest. 

 

“Yeah I’ve been looking out for both of you, he's doing better than you are, you need to get back to your room.” Newt didn't miss how Derek's words sounded more and more like growls the longer he talked. 

 

“No not Minho, Thomas.” because Thomas wasn't here. 

 

Thomas was never there when Newt woke up in hospital rooms. 

 

“He’s… fine.” Derek said slowly and Newt could hear the lie dripping from every syllable. 

 

“Where is he?” 

 

“We couldn't exactly bring him to the hospital,” Derek said in another growl. 

 

“Where is he?” Newt repeated, feeling the unshed tears stinging his eyes. 

 

“He’s back at our hotel, you and Minho were in such bad shape that Noah wouldn't let us go all the way back to Beacon Hills,” Derek explained. 

 

“Take me to him,” Newt said while standing, ignoring the pain in his side. 

 

“I can't just take you out of the hospital Newt, you’re still hurt. You need to relax and let yourself heal.” Derek's words spoke concern but his eyes were hard and Newt thought he knew where it came from.  "We don't even know how the bite has affected him yet." 

 

"What does that mean?" Newt asked, his hands clenched into fists in Minho's sheets. 

 

"The bite is supposed to heal," Derek said slowly like he was waiting for Newt to catch on so he didn’t have to say it. The bite was meant to heal everything, including the brain and that’s when Newt realized that maybe everyone was holding their breath for  _ Stiles _ , not Thomas. 

 

"Take me to him," Newt repeated slower. 

 

"You need to wait until we know more." Derek tried. 

 

“Would you be able to?” Newt asked meeting his gaze with his own determined one. 

 

“What?” Derek asked. 

 

“If the roles were reversed, would you be able to sit around and wait while he was out there and you had  _ no _ idea how he was?” Derek wouldn't look at him, wouldn't say anything for a while but Newt knew the answer of course. Derek would move heaven and earth to get to Stiles. Newt would move heaven and earth for Thomas. 

 

Derek never answered but instead turned and walked out of the room. After a last look at Minho's peaceful face, he followed Derek. 

 

Derek drove Newt to the hotel he talked about. The ride was short and silent and Newt could feel the tension in his chest. 

 

“Room 213,” Derek said, tossing a key card at him, Newt caught it and stepped out of the car. As soon as Newt was far enough away from the car Derek sped off and Newt was left standing alone in an almost empty parking lot. 

 

He took the stairs two at a time, the pain in his side didn't matter when Thomas was only a floor away. He broke into an almost jog, looking at all the room numbers until he found 213. He didn't bother with knocking, instead, he shoved the keycard into the slot and when the light turned green he turned the knob and Newt swung the door open. 

 

Derek had left a lot out of his story. 

 

He said Thomas was fine and even if Newt didn't believe him he also didn't expect him to still be unconscious. That was the first thing Newt saw, Thomas laying on the bed, and even if he could have just been asleep Newt knew better, or at least he thought he knew better. If Thomas was able he would have been by Newt’s side, wouldn't he? unless hes not Thomas anymore.  Newt walked over to Thomas the same time the bathroom door opened to reveal Sheriff Stilinski. 

 

“Newt,” He said, confusion clear in his voice. “What are you doing here?" Newt tried to convince himself he was just surprised to see him. not that the Sheriff didn't want him here. not like there was something he wanted to hide from him. "I thought you were unconscious still?" 

 

“Yeah, I was. Not anymore, I needed to see him.” Newt didn't know why he suddenly felt awkward, standing less than a foot from the bed. He couldn't take his eyes off of Thomas.

 

“But you’re okay? Did they release you and give you the all clear? How's Minho?” Newt looked at The Sheriff for a second before looking back at Thomas. 

 

“Has he not woken up at all yet?” He asked, not meaning to ignore the Sheriff’s questions but Thomas was all he could focus on. 

 

‘Yeah, he hasn't so much as moved in three days. Scott is on the phone with Deaton right now.” The Sheriff stopped talking as the door opened. Newt looked over his shoulder and recognized Lydia immediately but didn't recognize the little girl she was holding hands with. 

 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt but she kept asking for you,” Lydia told the Sheriff who nodded and grinned at the little girl. “Hi, Newt.” Lydia smiled at him 

 

“Hi, Lyds.” He said watching her hand the little girl over to the Sheriff. 

 

“And change?” She asked, turning back to face Thomas, brushing his hair out of Thomas’s eyes. Newt looked away feeling like he was intruding on something personal. 

 

“Uh, I don't think so.”

 

She nodded and looked over Thomas one more time before walking out of the room. 

 

“You okay, Newt?” The Sheriff asked, and Newt didn't know what to say, He didn't know what he could say because there was something in the way The Little girl looked at him that clogged his words in his throat. He’d seen those eyes before, he’d seen them in the box, afraid and cowering in the corner. He'd seen them on First Day, wide and terrified looking over the glade. He remembered them glossy with unshed tears in the night, wondering why. He’d seen them staring lifeless at the ceiling. He shook off the feeling of familiarity. Instead of answering he sat on the bed next to Thomas, he held his hand and played with his hair. 

 

“What happened?” Newt finally asked after the girl had fallen asleep and the sky had darkened, decorating the room in shadows. 

 

And so the Sheriff told him. He told him how he'd woken up and no one was there but a note. He told Newt how he'd gone to the location they had planned on but Newt wasn't there.  He told him how he was going to go after them but he realized before he left that there could be someone else’s kid trapped in there so he went along with the plan. He'd had help, Lydia and Malia and Liam were with him. It had been easy, there were only two people in the entire facility and just before he left he found Chloe, the little girl. The Sheriff told him how he made it to them just as Derek was dragging Newt out of a burning building and they drove straight here. 

 

“I can’t say I'm happy with the fact that you all lied to me about the plan, but I also can't say I didn't expect it.” The Sheriff said after a long silence, “I'm just glad we almost everyone got out." Newt felt like he had just been hit by a truck because they hadn’t all made it, had they? Gally got caught up in it. Gally sacrificed himself for them all. Gally, who had always hated Thomas, who had resented Newt for so long, who had thrown himself at Teresa so they all could get out. Gally didn't make it. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Newt choked out, even though the words would never ever make up for any of it. It was all he could say.

 

“Don't be, son.” The Sheriff said and then yawned. “You good to look after him for the night?” Newt nodded mutely. “Okay, Scott will be back in a little while, I’m going to take her to bed.” The Sheriff said, scooping up Chloe. Just like that Newt was alone with Thomas. Just like that Newt crumbled, dropping his head onto the bed and sobbing into the sheets. 

 

Newt didn’t remember falling asleep, but he startled awake to the sound of his name. At first, Newt thought he had imagined it, until he heard it again, breathless and desperate sounding. 

 

The hand he held was squeezed tight around his. Newt fumbled to turn on the lamp with his free hand. Thomas was sweating, his hair stuck matted to his forehead and his breathing was coming quick and uneven. His eyes were screwed shut. “Newt.” He whimpered again and Newt’s heart caught in his chest. 

 

“Thomas?” He whispered, hoping to wake him or soothe him. He kept a hold of Thomas's hand despite how hard he was squeezing it and he brushed the hair out of Thomas’s eyes with his free hand. “Tommy.” He repeated, only barely louder. Thomas squeezed his hand harder, making Newt wince. 

 

“Newt,” He breathed. 

 

“Its okay Tommy, I’m here,” Newt said, pressing his lips to Thomas’s head. “I'm right here.” it wasn't long after that that Thomas relaxed into his sleep, but Newt wouldn’t sleep again. He sat there and played with Thomas’s hair, and watched him by lamplight until morning came hours later. 

 

A few hours after the sun came up it seemed like everyone came along. First, it was Scott and the Sheriff talking about what Deaton had said. Then Lydia and Malia came in with Chloe and they sat down on the other bed whispering to each other. Liam stood leaned against the corner like he didn't quite know where he belonged, but when his eyes weren't trained on the ground he was looking at Thomas like he was willing him to wake up. 

 

A little while later Derek came stalking in with Minho trailed behind him. Newt jumped up to hug him and Minho fell into Newt. 

 

“Is he okay?” Minho asked, his voice muffled in Newt’s shoulder. 

 

“He will be,” Newt said, his voice coming out far more confident than he felt. Newt fell back into his chair and continued playing with Thomas's hair and holding his hand. Minho sat next to him. 

 

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, looking over at Minho who only nodded. 

 

“You?” he asked, and Newt was about to say he was fine when he felt Thomas's hand squeeze his again. Not hard and painful, just a soft squeeze. Newt watched Thomas’s chest heave up and down and he heard Thomas exhale slowly. 

 

Then Thomas opened his eyes and looked right at him. 

 

“Tommy?” Newt asked hesitantly, for a moment he was afraid. Afraid that the Thomas laying in front of him now would look at him with sunken in eyes. But the eyes that looked at him now were clear and bright and alive. 

 

“Newt.” He answered, sitting up and throwing his arms around Newt’s neck, and Newt didn't care that he could barely breathe because Thomas was awake and here and alive and awake. Newt hugged him back just as tight. The conversation around them stopped and the relief in the air was tangible. Like everyone in the room let out a breath no one knew they were holding. Because Thomas was awake. He was okay. 

 

They were all going to be _ okay. _

 


	8. A Place For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt fingers in his hair. That was the first thing he was aware of, long fingers tangling in his hair. The light beyond his closed lids shifted to something softer. Voices swirled around him, hushed whispered conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Fuck What Is This?
> 
> you mean the last chapter? 
> 
> you mean i actually did it?
> 
> you mean i finished a thing? 
> 
> omg omg omg here it is :D

He felt fingers in his hair. That was the first thing he was aware of, long fingers tangling in his hair. The light beyond his closed lids shifted to something softer. Voices swirled around him, hushed whispered conversation. He felt whole, and he could  _ breathe again _ , and there were fingers threading through his hair like they were dancing and people talking in soft whispers around him. Thomas took a deep breath in through his nose and opened his eyes. 

 

"Tommy?" Newt was beautiful. That was the first thought that crossed his mind when Newt said his name. Then Thomas heard the hesitance in the way he said his, name and he saw the emotion in Newt’s eyes, fighting the unshed tears held there. 

 

Thomas couldn't wait a moment longer before launching himself at Newt, throwing his arms around his neck and inhaling his familiar scent. "Newt," he breathed, clinging to him. He could feel Newt’s arms close around him and it felt so good. but Thomas could  _ feel _ eyes on him. Lots and lots of eyes and he could  _ hear _ people breathing and a thumping that he couldn't place and beyond the scent of  _ Newt _ the room stank of something that felt like anxiety and none of that made sense to him. 

 

"Is it really you Tommy?" Newt’s voice was muffled by Thomas’s shoulder but it cut through the noise like a knife until all of Thomas’s senses were focused on Newt. Thomas pulled out of Newt’s arms. 

 

Newt was the one everyone respected, the one everyone could look up to, the one everyone could lean on. Even when Alby was the leader nothing got done unless Newt approved. Even when people were looking to Thomas to make the calls, Thomas was looking at Newt. Thomas had always known this on some level, but looking at him now with watery eyes and shaking hands, he was the strongest person Thomas had ever known in any part of his life. 

 

It dawned on him then that he was different. That the people in this room were waiting for him to say something because they were waiting to see who woke up. Thomas or Stiles. and Thomas thought maybe he'd deal with this struggle for the rest of his life. Maybe he'd have to prove who he was over and over again because maybe people will always be waiting for him to change. Right then Newt was looking at him with fear in his eyes and Thomas knew he was waiting to see if he was himself or if he was Stiles. 

 

Before he thought about what he was doing. Before he thought about who was watching. Before Newt could move. Thomas leaned forward. His eyes didn't leave Newt’s until their lips met and Newt’s eyes fluttered closed. 

 

The kiss was the exact opposite of their last one, this time Thomas was trying to reassure Newt instead of the other way around. This time Thomas didn't stop until he could feel Newt relax between his hands. He kissed Newt until he felt him breathe again. 

 

And then he pulled away, keeping his hands on Newt’s shoulders, and waited for Newt to open his eyes and look at him. "You didn't think you were getting rid of me that easily did you?" Somewhere off to his left, someone snorted. Thomas looked over his shoulder to see Minho standing there grinning. 

 

"You can't blame us for hoping." Minho said, grabbing Thomas’s shoulder and squeezing it. "It's good to see you alive greenie." 

 

"I hardly think we can continue calling him greenie at this point." Newt scoffed. Thomas grinned and dropped his hands from Newt’s arms only to find his hand and lace their fingers together. 

 

"Would you rather I call him Tommy?" Minho winked. 

 

"I will personally locate the bloody glade and throw your arse back in it Min, don't test me." 

 

"Son?" Thomas had been too caught up in Newt and Minho to remember there were other people in the room, but he recognized the voice immediately. He almost jumped up and ran over to his dad. Almost. In all honesty, he was scared to even look at him, scared he'd be disappointed that he didn't get his son back, not really anyway. He felt all the eyes on him again and he was sure they never left in the first place. He didn't even get a chance to look up from where his hand was in Newt’s before he felt arms go around him and he was overwhelmed with the smell of his Dad and for a second it didn't matter who he was or who he was supposed to be, cause this was his ( _ dad _ ). "We thought we lost you." his dad whispered, hugging him tighter. 

 

They sat like that, in that hug, for a while before his dad pulled away and Thomas was able to better see the room they were in. 

 

It took a full second for him to realize he wasn't in any place he recognized. 

 

It took less than that for the panic to start coiling around in his chest. 

 

"Where are we?" He asked, working to keep his voice low and even, and did it almost sound like a growl at the end or was he imagining things? He ripped his hand away from Newt’s and stood up. 

 

"Where are we?" He repeated, cause why was no one answering? And why was it so loud if no one was speaking?

 

"Tommy?" Newt was looking at him with fear in his eyes and it was too much. It was WICKED or it was a trap or it was both and everything inside him was pleading to run as far away as he could.

  
  


"Thomas. Thomas, look at me. Everything is okay you just need to take a deep breath and calm down." Thomas looked at Scott for a second before looking to Newt and back again and why were his instincts screaming at him to get out of there? Weren't these the people he should be able to trust? This was Newt and Scott and Minho and his Dad. And all Thomas could see was that night in his house when Newt shot his dad, only it wasn't Newt and what if none of these people were his friends? What if they were all WICKED’s puppets. 

 

Thomas turned on his heel and grabbed the door handle in an attempt to escape. 

 

"Son!" Thomas froze, rooted to his spot, and it sounded like his dad was scared but WICKED’s puppets didn't show emotion. Unless they wanted to trick you, Thomas thought, tightening his hold on the doorknob. 

 

"Where are we?" His question came out breathy and forced. 

 

"We’re in a hotel a few hours out of Beacon Hills." Scott answered, and Thomas could  _ Sense _ that he was right behind him now. "We got you out of a WICKED facility close by." Thomas’s heart started to race. "Newt and Minho were badly injured and they need a hospital, they couldn't wait, so we stayed here."  _ Newt was injured _ Thomas’s eyes flashed to Newt, looking him over trying to find where he was hurt.  

 

"WICKED is close. They'll find us." Thomas said. They probably didn't even realize how much danger they were all in. Thomas looked back to Newt and now his panic wasn't for himself. 

 

"No, they won't, Thomas. WICKED is gone." Scott said each word slowly. Thomas heard the laughter before he realized he was the one laughing. 

 

"WICKED isn't gone. WICKED can't be gone." He had thought this would be obvious but Scott just looked at him and Thomas dropped his hand from the door handle. "WICKED’s gone?" he whispered, and more than anything he wanted it to be true. 

 

"Yes. they're gone. You're safe. You're all safe." Scott's voice was gentle and reassuring. Thomas stepped away from the door nodding his head but not really paying attention to what he was doing. “Thomas?” Scott asked, and Thomas shook his head, trying to clear it before really looking at Scott. “You’re safe.” Scott repeated. 

 

“Yeah, yeah okay.” Thomas mumbled. 

 

"Good. Now let's get you home." Thomas nodded again and his eyes settled on Newt, still sitting on the bed, staring back at Thomas with a look he couldn't quite read. 

  
  


Derek didn't look at Thomas once while they were loading up the cars. And when it came to choosing cars Derek was quick to pick anyone other than him. He tried not to think of it. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him, but then again what was normal about Thomas's life? Derek had saved him, more than once, and he felt like he owed him something for that. At least he owed him a thank you. But maybe that's not what Derek wanted. Maybe the thing Thomas needed to do was to leave it alone for a while. Possibly forever. If that was what Derek needed, then that's what Thomas could do. 

 

"Hey, Dad." Thomas called, walking over to him. "Did, uh, did you find a little girl? In the other facility?" Thomas asked, afraid to know the answer. But before the Sheriff could even answer one of the hotel doors opened, revealing Lydia and Chloe. Thomas let out a long sigh of relief. 

 

"Tommy!" She squealed, pulling free of Lydia and running at Thomas who knelt to catch her in a hug. "Noah said you had to take a nap." She said as Thomas stood with her. 

 

"Yeah, I guess I was pretty tired." Thomas laughed. 

 

"Did she just call him Tommy?" Newt asked from somewhere behind him. 

 

"Relax Newty you can’t claim an entire nickname." Minho joked, and Thomas looked over his shoulder in time to see Newt playfully shove Minho into the blue jeep. 

 

"I sure as hell bloody can." 

 

Thomas shook his head and laughed at the two, then walked over to where his dad was standing by the Cruiser. 

 

"I have a feeling there's a story here." He said, looking at Chloe then Thomas with the kind of expression that seemed to say ‘We’ll talk about this later’. 

 

"I'll see you soon, kay?" he said, helping her get her seatbelt on. She nodded and Thomas carefully shut the door. His dad pulled out of the parking lot first, followed by Derek's car and then it was just the four of them left. 

 

Thomas walked back to the jeep and he saw Scott was already in the driver's seat with Minho in the front. Newt was leaning against the side of the Jeep with his arms crossed over his chest. 

 

"You coming slint head?" Minho yelled, causing both Newt and Thomas to laugh. 

 

"Yeah, come on Tommy, We started this together." And the way that Newt said  _ together, _ like it was a promise. The way he looked so deep into Thomas's eyes that he wondered for a moment if it was possible for him to know what he was thinking. It was the way that Newt smiled at him that told him that they could handle whatever came next.  _ Together _ .  

 

Thomas followed Newt into the back seat of the Jeep. Thomas threw his arms around Newt’s shoulders and he pressed his lips into Newt’s hair. 

 

Scott drove out of the parking lot and Thomas did not look back. He did not watch the motel disappearing behind them. He did not look over his shoulder for WICKED. He did not turn around. Instead, he looked ahead with a smile on his face as he and the remaining gladers attempted to sing along to songs they'd never heard before. 

 

For a while, it stayed like that. Wind in their hair, loud off-key singing, and nothing but hope. But of course, it didn't last. It never did for them. Newt stopped singing first, choosing instead to look out the window and Thomas could feel that there was something wrong. 

 

"Are you okay?" He whispered, his lips pressed into Newt’s temple. "Are you hurting?" he kept his voice low, just between the two of them. If anyone heard him he didn't care to notice. Newt just shook his head and Thomas's worry grew. "What's wrong?" Thomas asked, trying to catch Newt's eye.

 

"Gally," Newt said, keeping his head turned away from Thomas. Hearing that name, now, and from Newt’s lips confused Thomas. The last he’d heard about Gally, WICKED had him locked up where Thomas couldn't find him. That was before he got out. Before he tried to get Newt and Minho and Chloe out. "He's the only reason I'm alive. He’s the only reason we could even find you and-" Newt stopped and Thomas could feel Newt’s hysteria building. "And I just left him there." Newt finally whispered. 

 

"No, no Newt I know what you’re thinking-" 

 

"No you bloody don't Thomas." Newt scoffed. 

 

"No, you're right. I don't know." and finally  _ finally _ Newt looked at him and there were tears swimming in his eyes and it was all Thomas could do not to break down. He lifted a hand slowly to rest on the side of Newt’s face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. "I'm so sorry," Thomas whispered, and pressed a kiss to Newt’s forehead. They were just words, Thomas realized. Apologies didn't mean anything when he couldn't change what was done. What  _ he _ had done. But he couldn't think about that now because right now Newt was looking at him with sad eyes and Thomas had to be strong for him. 

 

Newt leaned into Thomas’s palm. "So what happens now?" 

 

"What do you mean? We're going back to Beacon Hills. We're going home." Thomas said slowly. 

 

"Yeah. Back to Beacon Hills." Newt pulled away from Thomas's hand. "But how do you know we can actually have a home there?" Newt’s voice was hard and bitter but Thomas could see clear as day that he was just trying to hide the fact that he was afraid. 

 

"Newt, of course, we will. And-" 

 

"No, not  _ we _ Thomas.  _ You _ will. You have a house and a bed and a family. You have a family. But Minho and I? We have no idea if there's anyone out there for us. And if there is we can't bloody find them. Are you telling me your dad is going to be willing to just take in a few more kids?" There was no fight in Newt’s voice. No malice or bite to the words. He just looked  _ tired. _

 

"Newt-" He started, stroking his cheek softly willing him to understand. 

 

"No he's right Thomas," Minho said from the front seat. "Your dad doesn't know anything about me and it isn't like Newt and I can just find a place on our own." Thomas couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

 

"No. Guys, just listen to be okay." He was talking louder now. "My home is  _ you _ ." he said, looking directly at Newt. "Both of you." Newt was shaking his head. 

 

"How many times, Thomas, have we dreamed about finding our parents or siblings or homes." Newt pulled out of Thomas’s hands and looked away from him. 

 

"But you’re my family," Thomas whispered. 

 

"It's not the same Tommy." And the car fell into silence. The tension was thick and it only got thicker the closer they got to Beacon Hills. 

 

The longer they drove the more nervous and panicked Thomas could feel himself getting. Newt’s words repeated in his head and his hands wouldn't stay still. Tapping out patterns on his legs,  _ It's not the same _ on the empty seat between him and Newt,  _ It's not the same _ on the door,  _ it's not the same _ the closer to the house they got the more Thomas was afraid he was going to be sick.  _ It's not the same _ .

 

"Tommy." Newt’s voice broke through his thoughts in the way that only Newt was ever capable of. "Relax." Newt’s voice was soft as he picked up Thomas’s twitching hand in both of his. Only then did Thomas realize they had stopped driving. 

 

Scott cut the engine off and they sat there staring at the house like it would change everything, and Thomas could only think that this wasn't what home was supposed to feel like. 

 

Minho moved to get out of the Jeep first and Newt followed him, leaving behind Thomas and Scott. 

 

"Thomas, you wouldn't remember this but," Scott said and Thomas knew he was looking at him in the rearview mirror. Thomas didn't look up. "but when I was dealing with all of this wolf stuff you were the one who got me through it. Even when I did unspeakable things to you, you still didn't let me go through it alone. And I intend to do the same thing for you." 

 

"I remember," Thomas whispered low enough that the only reason Scott even heard him was because of his advanced hearing. "It’s bits and pieces, like how cold it can get in the woods. I remember how bad you were at lacrosse and how bad I suck at lacrosse. I remember Malia." Thomas’s mouth went dry but he forced himself to continue. "I remember Malia and Lydia and Derek" he shook his head at the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. "It’s all fractured and shuffled together and I don't know what's real." 

 

"I can help you with that," Scott said softly, and Thomas didn't want to see the hope in his eyes. 

 

"It won't matter. It doesn't matter. I'm not going to change. The things that WICKED did to me left scars and that's not going away." Thomas was being harsh. He knew he was being harsh but he needed Scott to understand because well, maybe he still needed Scott. 

 

"You're my best friend." Thomas looked up at the words. "You've always been my best friend and you always will be. Whether you go by Stiles or Thomas. Whether you remember everything or nothing at all. We all have changed. Thomas, we're fighting a war. And getting you back was just one battle won. We’re not done. So if you're sitting here telling me you'll never be who you used to be, I'm telling you that neither am I." There was a fierce determination in Scott’s eyes as he said this that surprised Thomas.  And after that, there was nothing else he could say. They got out of the jeep and Scott nudged Thomas with his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble slightly. He looked back at Scott who was standing there grinning. And Scott’s grin was the infectious kind. Where as soon as you saw it you couldn’t help but grin back. Thomas punched Scott’s arm in retaliation and then they were both laughing, heading up the driveway. 

  
  
  


The house was warm and crowded. Much more crowded than he remembered the hotel room being. Granted, he didn't exactly pay attention to who all was in the hotel in the first place. Some were leaned against walls while others squeezed onto the one couch in the living room. Thomas kept walking until his gaze finally settled on Newt and Minho talking quietly to each other. He started to make his way to them when Scott started talking and pulled his attention away. 

 

"Today we came home with a win," Scott said, standing in the front of the room. Everybody's eyes were trained on him. "But we're not done." Scott had a level of authority in his voice that Thomas didn't quite understand. He was still just Scott, uneven jawline and all. But when he talked nobody said anything. They just listened. 

 

"Full moon is in two and a half weeks." Scott's gaze flickered to Thomas for a second before looking at everyone else again. The reminder that the full moon was coming, and that it actually affected him, sent chills down Thomas’s spine. "Lydia volunteered the Lakehouse, so everyone will be spending a few days there."  Thomas glanced over his shoulder at Newt and Minho. Newt didn't seem the least bit surprised by anything Scott was saying but Minho, on the other hand, looked like he was seeing a Griever for the first time. "Monroe is still in hiding but her people are all over Beacon Hills." Scott said and the name felt like someone had dumped cold water over Thomas. "They're going after anyone that is not human or is connected to anyone not human so I can't stress enough that each of you need to be careful. Don't go anywhere alone, that sort of thing. They know most of us and I don't want anyone else getting hurt." Then Thomas remembered someone told Monroe who he was. She killed someone that was missing from this group because of him. Thomas’s head was spinning. 

 

Scott kept talking but Thomas couldn't listen anymore. He was closest to the kitchen door so when he ducked through it he went unnoticed. He felt unsteady and had to lean against the kitchen counter to prevent himself from falling over, which definitely wouldn't have gone unnoticed in a house full of supernatural creatures. 

 

"You okay son?" Thomas jumped at the sound of his dad's voice behind him. 

 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Thomas said turning around. "It’s just a lot." 

 

"Believe me I'm still getting used to it and I've been in the loop for a few years now." His dad looked tired. He walked past Thomas putting a hand on his shoulder for a second before moving to pour coffee into his empty cup. "So. You and Newt?" and Thomas could feel his cheeks heating up. 

 

"yeah." He answered, hoping that could be the end of the conversation. 

 

"And you two, are, serious?" His dad asked, pausing between each word as though he were choosing them carefully. 

 

"Yeah. I mean I think so. I'm pretty sure." and Thomas found himself wondering if his dad even knew he liked boys too. Although there was something with Derek at some point so surely that meant he knew, didn’t it? Thomas honestly wasn't sure. 

 

"Do I need to talk to you about being safe?" Thomas choked. 

 

"No. Nope. Dad no not even a little." Thomas was half a second away from plugging his ears and singing. 

 

"Alright alright." his dad said, holding his hands up. "I'm just making sure, I mean if he's going to live here, there are rules you know." 

 

"Wait, live here? Like with us? Like in this house?" Thomas asked, not letting him finish. 

 

"Where else would those boys go?" his dad asked, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. 

 

Thomas was speechless, grinning like an idiot. 

 

"And that's not to say its a permanent solution, you know we need to think about stuff like GEDs and jobs. It'll take time of course, but," but Thomas wasn't listening anymore, instead he surged forward and wrapped his arms around his dad’s shoulders. 

 

"Thank you," he whispered into his shoulder. 

 

"it's not a problem son." Thomas pulled away, ready to go tell Newt and Minho but his dad grabbed his arm before he could leave. "But. We still need to see if they have family out there. And if they do I can't just keep them here knowing their parents are missing their kids." Thomas nodded. It made sense. and Thomas wanted that for them of course, but that would take time. "And I'm not so sure this is the best environment for that little girl." Thomas's smile fell. 

 

"What?" 

 

"We have to find her family too, and with all this Monroe stuff I think that needs to be a priority." 

 

"She doesn't have a family, Dad." But what he wanted to say was  **_'Im her family'_ **

 

"You can't know that. She's just a little girl." Thomas pulled his arm out of his father's grip. 

 

"No," Thomas whispered the word because he didn't get it. How was finding Chloe's family anymore important that finding Newt or Minho's when he knew that Chloe didn't have anyone out there. 

 

"Son I'm just trying to prepare you for the possibility,” 

 

"Chloe's brother died in the maze, in my arms. He was shot by another Glader that WICKED was controlling. He was 12 years old. His mother died in childbirth with Chloe and his dad turned them into WICKED a year after. Turned them  _ both _ into WICKED. He later ended his own life because of it. His mother was an only child. Her only family left is an abusive step-father. Dad if she had any other living relatives I would know." 

 

"How-" 

 

"Because I worked for them! I worked for them for a year, then I betrayed them and they sent me into the maze to die. I lived. I had all the information, I was there the day Chuck was sent into the maze. And I looked after Chloe. Even if she didn't know if I was there. I'm all she has left." Thomas's voice broke. "I promised." his fists were shaking by his sides and his dad hugged him again. "I promised Chuck I’d find his family." Thomas finally said into his father's jacket. 

 

"Okay. okay. I get it. it's okay." His dad soothed. Thomas was the one that pulled away first. 

 

"I'm not going to abandon her," he said 

 

"Of course not." his dad sighed. "That was never who you were. Now go tell your friends they have a home here." 

  
  


Thomas knew Scott was done talking before he even turned to leave the room. He could hear voices overlapping but still as clear as anything to Thomas. They were crowded in the living room still and Thomas scanned the small room for Newt and Minho. 

 

He found them easy enough and made to head towards them but then he stopped. Newt was laughing. Minho was smiling. they were deep in a conversation with Scott and Allison and Thomas didn't want to interrupt. 

 

"Well, looks like they’re going to fit in well." He wasn't surprised to hear Lydia's voice like he was when his dad walked up behind him. He had heard her heels tapping against the wood floor. 

 

"I really hope so." because wouldn't that be perfect? The two parts of his life fitting together to make something better and new. 

 

"I'm sorry it took so long to find you." Lydia whispered beside him, catching him off guard. He looked over at her. "Everything was so splintered when you were gone. I was worried I’d never see the pack whole again." the guilt hit him head-on. 

 

"Lydia I'm so sorry." 

 

"It wasn't your fault," she said looking at him finally. "Even if Derek would like you to think it was." He just stared at her. "Anyways. I'm glad you’re home." She turned and walked away leaving Thomas with questions bouncing around in his head. 

 

He watched her go and could hear her footsteps echoing against the walls. He squeezed his eyes shut against the flood of noise that threatened to swallow him whole. He shook his head, trying to clear it and pressed a hand against his head. He wanted to escape. To put as much distance between him and the noise as he could. He wanted to  _ run _ .

 

"Tommy!" Thomas spun around to see Chloe standing there looking up at him and just like that the noise retreated, turning into something gentle that he could easily ignore. 

 

"Hey kiddo, what are you up to?" he asked, kneeling down in front of her. She shrugged and Thomas had an idea. He looked over his shoulder and Newt was looking at him with something like curiosity. Thomas smiled at him and looked back at Chloe." I have something for you, wanna see?" She nodded excitedly and Thomas scooped her up and carried her back into his room. 

 

It was dark in the room. He stood in the doorway for less than a second, despite the lights being dark Thomas could still make out the smudged words on the mirror he wrote a lifetime ago. He read ‘Wolf?’ and almost laughed at how far he’d come. he flicked the lights on with his free hand and crossed the room sitting Chloe down on his bed. 

 

"Alright. Close your eyes." He waited until she did before turning to his nightstand. He opened the drawer as quietly as he could. "No peeking," he said, and laughed when she squealed and clapped her hands over her eyes. He took a little longer than he needed to before picking up the wooden figure and turning back to Chloe. "okay, hold out your hands." she did, and he set the figure in her hands. "alright you can open your eyes now." 

 

"What is it?" She asked, turning the figure over in her hands and staring at it with wide eyes. Thomas tucked flyaway hair behind her ear. 

 

"It's, well, it’s something your brother made for you." she tightened her hand around it.

 

"Chuck." She said softly, then looked up at Thomas. "I don't really remember." Thomas felt his heartbreak. 

 

"Well he loved you." she smiled, and looked and the wooden figure again.

 

"You know where Thomas went?" he heard someone say from the other room. 

 

"You ready to go back?" he asked Chloe. 

 

"Yes," she said, jumping up to her feet on the bed. 

 

"Alright hop on," he said, turning her back to her. She jumped and wrapped her arms around his neck. He hooked his hands under her legs where they wrapped around his sides and headed out the door with Chloe giggling on his back.  

 

When he walked back into the living room he’d noticed most of the people that were there before, had left. There were still some people lingering on the edges of the room. Newt and Minho were by the window looking like they were in a deep conversation. Thomas shifted Chloe farther up on his back and walked over to them. 

 

"Oh there you are Tommy, we were just about to come looking for you," Newt said, and there was a slight strain in his voice that had Thomas worried. "And how are you miss Chloe?" he asked, Chloe hid her face on Thomas’s shoulder and clutched the figurine in her hand. Newt noticed what she was holding and raised his eyebrow at Thomas who shrugged, figuring it’s nothing they couldn't talk about later. 

 

"Thomas, Newt and I were just trying to figure out where we're going to go tonight," Minho said, effectively pulling Thomas out of his own mind. 

 

"Go?" he asked, confused. Then it dawned on him that he hadn't told them yet. "Well you don't have to go anywhere. My dad said you could stay here." Thomas was grinning as he watched Newt and Minho take that in. 

 

"Both of us?" Minho asked, and it occurred to him that Minho didn't think there was a place for him here. Thomas reached around to pull Chloe off of his back and set her down beside him where she leaned against his leg. 

 

"Yeah, Minho, of course. Like I said in the car, you’re both my family." Thomas’s stomach clenched and he bit his lip because maybe Minho didn't want to stay. He remembered the last time he had talked to Minho, and he still felt bad about that. Maybe Minho wasn't ready to forgive him.  

 

"I just didn't know if you still wanted me around." Minho said so quietly Thomas felt sure he didn't want him to hear it. 

 

"Why the shuck would I not want you here?" Thomas asked, Minho looked between Newt and Thomas a few times and Newt seemed to take the hint. 

 

"Hey Chloe, I'm bloody starving, wanna go with me to find something to eat?" he asked, she looked up at Thomas and he nodded at her. Newt took her hand and led her away. 

 

"Minho what's going on?" Thomas asked once they made their way out of the room. 

 

"Well, the last time we talked I said some really harsh things and I didn't know if maybe you were upset with that. Because i know you did everything you did for Newt and I knew that then too, and I'm glad you did because well because Newt is my best friend. More like my brother. And I would have done the same exact thing but then I just blew up like a shuck greenie." 

Minho was positively rambling and Thomas didn't think he’d ever seen him that wound up over something. He was always snarky and didn't exactly let anyone in on how he was feeling. He’d get angry but that was about the only emotion you would see from him. Thomas couldn't help it, he actually started to laugh, which almost definitely did not help the situation but Minho lapsed into silence.

 

"Minho, you dumb shank. if I had found you in a WICKED uniform I can guarantee you that I would have jumped to the same conclusions and possibly said worse things. So don't even think about it. All I care about is that we're out, and we’re home." Thomas said, grabbing Minho's shoulder. 

 

"Home," Minho said slowly. " I think I can get used to that." relieved, Thomas chuckled again and dropped his hand. 

 

"Let's go find Chloe and Newt," Thomas said and Minho nodded. 

 

Thomas could hear Newt talking with his Dad and he led Minho in that direction. He wondered briefly how much of all this they even knew. They obviously knew enough to not freak out at anything during Scott's speech. 

 

Before they had even made it out of the living room Derek caught Thomas’s eye. He motioned for Minho to go ahead without him and when he did Thomas walked over to Derek. 

 

"Thomas," He said in way of a greeting. 

 

"Uh, I know I'm not really like, someone you want anything to do with at the moment," Thomas’s stomach was in knots. "or uh, ever. But I just wanted to say thank you." 

 

"For what?" Derek asked, only it was less of a question the way Derek's voice came out completely monotone and flat. Thomas almost laughed, almost. 

 

"Well, you kinda saved my life. Like more than once. And I know it wasn't exactly for me or whatever. But I mean I’d be very very dead if it wasn't for you so you know. Thanks." Derek was looking at him, studying him, and he wasn't saying anything. Thomas couldn't stand still under Derek's scrutiny. 

 

"You're pack," Derek said finally looking away from Thomas. And he said this like it cleared everything up and tied it off with a nice little bow. Thomas looked at his feet. 

 

"Maybe now, but-"

 

"No." Derek cut him off in that same flat tone. "You're pack. All of you are." Derek pushed himself off the wall. "And you're wrong." he looked at Thomas over his shoulder. " I did do it for you." Thomas opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. and Derek was gone anyways. 

 

"You’ll have to give him time." Thomas cursed and turned to face Malia, who had effectively snuck up on him. He had no idea how long she'd been there but she was looking right at him. "Not everyone is going to be able to just move past this and get on with business as usual." And there was the guilt again. Swimming like acid in his stomach. 

 

"Malia," He started, he wasn't sure what there was to say. Sorry, maybe, but even that fell so short compared to what he did to her. He took a step in her direction, not sure what he was meaning to do but she moved backward, out of his reach. 

 

"You have to give me time too." and suddenly she was looking anywhere but at him. She opened her mouth to say something else but quickly closed it. She stood there for another second and then just like that she was gone and Thomas wished he could say he felt any better. 

 

He watched her go, he wished he could do something to make it up to everyone he hurt. The room was almost empty except for Scott and Allison on the couch. He smiled when Scott laughed, and went back to looking for Newt. 

 

He found him sitting at the table in the kitchen. Chloe was in his lap playing with the figurine, Minho was in the chair next to him and his dad was across from Newt. 

 

"Hey, Thomas!" Scott said from behind him. He turned slightly to see Scott and Allison. "We're going to head out." Scott hesitated and his eyes seemed to search Thomas. "you good?" and Thomas thought maybe Scott wanted him to say no, to ask him to stay. Maybe Scott wasn't quite ready to leave yet. But they had time and there were other things on Thomas’s mind at the moment. Things like Newt, Minho, Chloe, and his Dad around the table looking every bit like what Thomas though family should look like. And of Scott was a part of that too. Just maybe a slightly different kind of family. So Thomas nodded at Scott and waved them on. And he may not have said anything but Scott smiled at him like he understood and mentioned something about tomorrow and that made Thomas smile. 

 

"Thomas?" Allison said before Thomas turned back to the kitchen. "I'm glad you're okay." Something in the way she said that made Thomas think there was more she wanted to say. He waited but she only smiled and followed Scott outside. When Thomas looked back at the table Chloe was yawning. 

 

“Looks like it's probably time for bed.” He said, crossing the room and scooping her up out of Newt’s lap. Chloe laid her head on Thomas’s shoulder almost in agreement. 

 

“Shuck you’re right. I gotta get my beauty sleep.” Minho said making a show of stretching his arms as wide as they could go and throwing in a fake yawn. 

 

“Yeah you sure need all the bloody help you can get you ugly shank.” Newt teased. “You alright Tommy?” Newt asked, looking up at him and reaching for his free hand. Thomas took it easily and pressed a kiss onto Newt’s knuckles. 

 

“Tired is all,” he said with a smile. And it was true, even if it wasn't the whole truth. He looked at Newt a second and then at his dad and Newt seemed to understand. He took Chloe from Thomas easily and left the room calling back for Minho to follow. 

 

Thomas stood there a moment looking at his dad. "Thank you," he said finally. His dad looked up at him almost confused. "for letting them stay, for understanding. For," he paused. "for finding me." He said in almost a whisper.  "I just, I know it's been hard. I know it’s still hard. I'm not exactly the same person you've all been looking for, but," 

 

"Now you stop that." His dad said, walking over to him, and Thomas didn't remember when he stood up, to begin with. "You are my son. And you haven't changed as much as you think you have. And even if you did you’re still my son and there is nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you." Thomas nodded. "I love you, son," he said. 

 

"I love you too," Thomas whispered.

 

"Now go get some sleep. Scott helped me move the couch from the office into your room. This weekend we’ll see about turning the office into a bunk room, but for now." He trailed off and a part of him wondered how he missed Scott moving a couch through the house. The other part was too tired to really care. "Do I have to remind you about our almost conversation earlier," he said and Thomas choked again. 

 

"Nope. nah. I'm good." he said 

 

"Good. Chloe's been sleeping with me since we picked her up. She can tonight too." Thomas shook his head. 

 

"No, you need to sleep. I'll take her." and it was true his dad need to sleep but he also didn't want her out of his sight for too long either. His dad just nodded. 

 

"Alright well, go get some sleep son." 

  
  


Newt and Minho were sitting on the couch with Chloe laid out between them fast asleep. 

 

"Hey, Greenie," Minho stage-whispered. Thomas smirked and leaned over the back of the couch to kiss Newt. Minho made a gagging noise beside them and Thomas laughed into the kiss before pulling away and walking around to the front of the couch. 

 

"Mm, and what was that for, Tommy?" Newt asked smiling wildly. 

 

"Cause I wanted to." he sat on the coffee table facing them. 

 

"Ew," Minho said, pretending to gag again. 

 

"Shut up, Min, you’re just jealous," Newt said, elbowing the other boy in the ribs. 

 

"yeah right. I don't want to be stuck with ugly shanks like you two." Minho shot back. "Hey, Tommy boy. what's up with you? Shouldn’t you be relaxing and whatnot now that the world isn't actually over?" Thomas chuckled and shook his head. 

 

"Min, I will bloody kill you," Newt said, but he was looking at Thomas too. 

 

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. it’s just going to take some getting used to. You know, not trying to save your shuck ass anymore." That made all three of them laugh. And damn did it feel good to laugh, until Chloe started to stir in her sleep which effectively silenced them. Thomas sighed.

"You good on the couch Min?" Thomas asked, sliding his arms under Chloe's knees and neck picking her up easily. 

 

"Are you kidding me? I will be just fine here." Minho said making a show of stretching out and hooking his arms behind his head.

 

"Scott set up a couch in my room. I mean if you wanted to. I mean, you could have the bed if you wanted. Or we could, you know pull it back in here or you two could have my room." 

 

"Oh my god, Thomas take your boyfriend and get out of here." Minho groaned. Thomas knew he was blushing. 

 

"Come on Tommy." Newt smiled, which in turn made Thomas smile. 

 

"I swear to god I'm going to start throwing pillows at you both if you don't clear out of this clunk room with your heart eyes," Minho said pushing himself up on his elbows. Newt laughed. Thomas turned bright red and rushed down the hall to his room. He could feel Newt close behind him. 

 

He didn't bother with the lights. He laid Chloe on the bed gently and pulled off her shoes. He carefully pried the figurine out of her hands and set it on the nightstand. 

 

"didn't Chuck give that to you?" Newt said softly, and Thomas realized he didn't know who Chloe was. 

 

"Uh, yeah. Well, I'm sure he'd rather she had it," he whispered awkwardly as he pulled the blankets over her. 

 

"She looks like him," Newt said after a bit and Thomas wondered if maybe Newt knew more than he let on. He sat on the foot of the bed and toed his own shoes off, leaving them in the floor. She did look a lot like him. She had the same big curious eyes. It broke his heart to think about Chuck not remembering her. 

 

"You okay Tommy?" Newts voice was soft

 

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep." he whispered. Not because he was afraid to wake Chloe, but because he was afraid if he spoke any louder Newt would hear all the places his voice would break and quiver. 

 

"I don't think I will either," Newt said, but neither of them moved. A sort of tension settled in the air and it was thick and heavy and pressing into Thomas in a way that reminded him of the Void. Thomas didn't realize he was shaking until Newt was standing in front of him. Newt didn't say anything but he picked up Thomas’s hands in his, gently and carefully pulled him up until he was standing. Newt led Thomas over to the couch. "It's okay Thomas," Newt said and like Thomas was waiting for his permission as soon as he said the words Thomas broke. 

 

Newt pulled him into his chest and Thomas cried into his shirt. Newt didn't say much, but he played with Thomas’s hair and that was enough. Sobs racked his body and he couldn't catch his breath. Newt just brushed his fingers through Thomas’s hair and it was like his personal lifeline. Like if he stopped Thomas would surely drown, or wake up in WICKED  with ropes around his wrists. 

 

"It's alright Thomas," Newt whispered above him and Thomas wondered how he could be so calm. It wasn't alright. Nothing was alright. 

 

"No." he whimpered, pulling out of Newts arms. Throwing himself into the waves. "its not." Thomas said and Newt was quick to sit up with him. Putting hands on him. Pulling him back into the protective circle that was Newt’s arms. "Newt. I'm a monster." and there it was. The thought that had been creeping around the back of his mind for as long as he could remember. Dropped right there in the middle of everything,  _ Monster _ the word tasted metallic and he realized he’d bitten through his lip in an attempt to stay quiet. 

 

"Oh Tommy, there's not a single monstrous thing about you." Thomas laughed. and it was a dark laugh. And it reminded him of sunken in eyes and black teeth and  _ when is a door not a door. _

 

"I'm a fucking werewolf," Thomas said louder than he meant to and he immediately glanced at Chloe to see she was still asleep. "I'm a werewolf and before that, I tried to kill you." because of course, those would be the memories he could remember. 

 

"Thomas. No." and suddenly Newt’s voice was hard and he was holding Thomas still and looking right in his eyes and Thomas wanted to get away because he didn't get this. he didn't get to have this. "You did not try to kill me. The thing that was possessing you tried to kill me and guess what? it failed. I'm right here and I'm fine and thanks to you I have a home. And I'm not talking about four walls and a couch to sleep on I'm talking about you. I have a home in you. I have a family in you and you’re the one that showed me that, so please believe me when I say that there is nothing dark in you." Newt took a shaky breath and Thomas felt guilty. 

 

After that, they didn't say anything. There was nothing left to say really. Thomas felt better, admittedly a lot better but there was still a part of him that was sick with regret. He didn't think any amount of words from Newt could help him with that. He must have stopped crying at some point during the night. He must have curled deeper into Newt’s embrace and let himself rest. They must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew it was light outside and he felt lighter. 

  
  
  


It was cold and windy, but Thomas didn't notice it much. There were dew drops on the grass that made them look almost sparkly. something about this place reminded him of somewhere. Like some sort of deja vu. Thomas had found this place a few days ago while going for a run. It was a peaceful place despite the people standing in front of him, waiting for him to say something. 

 

"In the Glade, we had this sort of, tradition." He started, His voice clear and steady. His gaze settled on Newt and Minho and they looked at him with small smiles. "We woke up not knowing anything about anything. But usually, after a day or two, you'd remember your name. That's the only thing they let you keep." the wind picked up and Thomas watched leaves blow past him. "When we remembered our names, we carved them into one of the walls. And when we, lost, someone." Thomas' voice started to waver thinking about all the names that had been crossed out the day he carved his name. "When we lost someone, we would cross their names out." 

 

They were in a clearing deep in the woods that almost surrounded Beacon Hills. It was surrounded by tall skinny trees and when it was foggy you couldn't see the tops of them. And in the center of the clearing was a giant rock. There was nothing really special about the rock except that with the ivy covering half of it it felt like a little piece of the Glade dropped right here. At first, he wanted to keep this to himself, his own little safe haven where he could remember the people he’d lost. But he wasn’t the only one who's lost people. 

 

"I don't want to cross out any more names." He said in a whisper because that's all he was capable of. 

 

The knife in his hand was shaking slightly and Thomas stared at it. It looked almost identical to the one hed used in the glade. He could feel everyone's eyes on him but it didn't make him nervous. 

 

There was nothing left to say. He turned away from the group who had followed him out here so early in the morning and walked up to the stone. It stood just barely taller than him and it was cold under the palm of his hand. in comparison, it was much easier to write into the stone this time than when he carved his own name years ago. He supposed it had something to do with the new werewolf strength. He took a step back and looked at the name. It wasn't Chucks, or Fry or Winston or even Teresa's name that he chose to carve first. No, instead he carved the name _ Stiles.  _

 

he turned and handed the knife off. People took turns carving names.  _ Stiles, Alby, Chuck, Hayden, Winston, Ben, Gally, Erica, Fry, Boyd, Teresa. _

  
  


Thomas was sitting on the roof that jutted out from an upstairs window. This had been a spot he came to often when he wanted to be alone. And today after the clearing, was just such a day. Over the past hours darkness settled over everything, it was late, really late, or maybe it was really early but he hadn't really gotten any sleep anyways. His legs hung off the side and dangled there. He wasn't in any real danger of falling. And even if he did fall he knew he’d easily land on his feet. 

 

"You can stop now," Newt said from behind him. he’d heard him coming, He was getting better at knowing what was going on around him without him having to pay any special attention to it. 

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Thomas said, not looking behind him. 

 

"Oh you know," Thomas heard Newt climbing onto the roof. "Sulking, Blaming yourself, all that." Newt’s tone was light but he knew he was being serious. 

 

"Still don't know what you're talking about," Thomas said stubbornly as Newt sat beside Thomas. 

 

"I get it you know." and his voice had gotten quieter and serious and Thomas had to close his eyes. 

 

"You know what I've done" Thomas’s voice was hoarse.

 

"Exactly," Newt said a little louder than Thomas was expecting.  "I know exactly what you've done. You know all the saving and leading and protecting." Thomas shook his head and sighed. 

 

“Yeah but there's more”

 

“I know." and Newt’s voice was more gentle. "I know what you’ve done and I know what you’ve gone through. And I know how hard it was for you.” Newt settled beside Thomas, letting his legs dangle over the edge and if Thomas was human he probably would have been worried but he wasn't because he knew if he needed to, he could catch Newt easily. “And I know that all of this is overwhelming.” 

 

Thomas snorted. He couldn't help it. Overwhelming was probably an understatement to the way he couldn't just sit still and do nothing every damn day of the past two weeks. 

 

“I know you blame yourself for the people you couldn't save,” Newt whispered this part almost like he wasn't sure if he was actually going to say it out loud. But he did. And Thomas heard him. And the words cut deep because of course, Newt was right. He did blame himself, and there was nothing anyone could say that could change that. 

 

“I know that you don't believe you deserve any of this. And I know that being still is driving you crazy and I know this wolf thing is probably making it worse.”  Thomas sucked in a breath at the reminder. It wasn't like he hated being a werewolf. It wasn't like he would have rather they let him die or anything. No, he was grateful that Derek had saved him, it was just, not the life he ever envisioned himself having. “I know you’re afraid of it. Even if you haven’t let yourself think that far ahead yet.” and yeah maybe Thomas was terrified of it, he let out a sound that was almost a whimper. 

 

"I also know that you deserve to be happy." 

 

Thomas started to argue. He wanted to argue but before he could Newt kept going. 

 

"You saved me from way more than WICKED you know." his tone light again. 

 

"Newt" he whispered, trying to get him to just stop. But he wouldn't. 

 

"You’re not in this alone." And there it was. The unspoken understood thing between them. Newt refusing to let Thomas be alone, Thomas refusing to leave Newt behind. Thomas let out a breath he didn't remember holding. He knew if he turned his head Newt would be right there. He could feel the warmth radiating off of him. And Thomas wanted so much to lose himself in it. Because here's the thing, the biggest thing. Newt made everything okay. Or at least tolerable. without Newt Thomas would have given up a long time ago. 

 

"Newt." Thomas’s breath hitched in his throat. And everything else dissolved around him. There was just Newt. And his lips and his hands and his scent drowning out every other thing around them. And this feeling of just  _ right _ crashed over him and with it a promise. A promise that Thomas would move mountains to keep. A promise that Thomas was currently trying to sear into Newt’s lips. a promise that screamed  _ forever forever forever _ A promise he poured as much love into as he could manage and it wasn't enough. He pulled away first and he could hear Newt’s ragged breath and rapid heartbeat and Thomas wanted to stay in this moment forever. 

 

"I love you." He whispered into the space between their lips. and it felt like an explosion and he and Newt were right in the center of it. 

 

"I love you too Tommy." Newt breathed so close to him and in that moment Thomas was happy. "I've loved you so much longer than you know." and Thomas could hear a hint of something in Newt’s voice. and he probably should have wondered what Newt meant by that but he was to busy surging forward and kissing Newt with everything he had because this was the official beginning of something wonderful. 

 

When they pulled apart for air the world around them resumed. 

 

"What's up you ugly shanks," Minho called from where he was crawling through the window and Thomas wondered briefly if he’d seen any of that but he couldn't bring himself to care either. Minho made his way to them and went to sit down right in between them forcing them to give him room. "What are you slintheads doing out here this fine ass hour of it's to shucking early?" 

 

"Well, by all means, go back to bed," Newt said sourly, but his eyes were dancing and there was a smile on his face. 

 

"And miss the sunrise? Yeah, right." Minho threw his arms over Thomas and Newt’s shoulders. "So did I miss anything interesting?' Newt and Thomas caught each other's eye. 

 

"Oh, you know just confessing our undying love for each other," Newt said flatly. It was silent for less than a second before all three of them burst into laughter. 

 

As soon as they could catch their breath again the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. They watched it rise silently and Thomas couldn't bring himself to think about WICKED. He didn't think about the fallout of destroying one of their facilities. He didn't think about how many were still out there. He just sat staring up at the sky and just  _ being. _ He found Newt’s hand behind Minho’s back and he entwined their fingers together.  

 

"You were right, Newt." Thomas was the first to break the silence. 

 

"I usually am," Newt replied. "but what exactly am I right about this time?" 

 

"there is a place for us." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, peoples its been an interesting thing this story has. I hope you liked it and for anyone, that's stuck with me from start to finish im sending you all my love <3<3<3 let me know hat you think just one last time!!


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